


Take Me Home

by KettleBlack



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alcohol, Alternate Ending, Angst, BDSM, Blood and Injury, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Non-Consent, Dom/sub Play, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Human Trafficking, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kink Negotiation, Medical Experimentation, Mental Institutions, Mild Gore, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Nomad V (Cyberpunk 2077), Non-Consensual Drug Use, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Spoilers, Swearing, V Needs A Hug (Cyberpunk 2077)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 100,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29020491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KettleBlack/pseuds/KettleBlack
Summary: “I’m serious. All you need to be a merc is a gun and the willingness to fuck your own morals in the ass if the pay’s right. And the gun’s optional.” V pointed at herself. “Case in point.”“This first date thing is going really well,” River mused. “But tell me more about your terrible job and intrinsic character flaws; I’m intrigued.”V spread her hands out. “Buddy, if you think that’s good, wait ‘til you hear how I’m dyin’ of an incurable brain disorder and how every time we fuck, a washed-up, mass-murdering rockerboy with an ass tattoo will critique your performance.”---Ch. 40:Time for a BOSS FIGHT!
Relationships: Female V/River Ward, V/River Ward
Comments: 270
Kudos: 272





	1. R) Take Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Welcome to the first fanfic I've written in a decade, and the first that I've ever posted online. I'm nervous as hell about it but the world's on fire and we're all gonna die sooner than we think so might as well share this thing I'm proud of about characters I love with a bunch of cute internet strangers, right?! Right. Fuck yeah let's do this.
> 
> This is gonna be a long one, current draft is 35k and I'm not sure how close to the end I am. Will be updated regularly, at least until I run out of material. Tags will be added as new stuff happens. Primary couple is V/River, but V/Johnny shippers might find some stuff they like here too, eventually. Genre is... adorable fluff, snarky banter, traumatic backstories, kinky smut, occasional fistfights, friends having each others' backs, lovers getting to know each other and themselves, philosophical debates, finding hope in a hopeless situation--y'know, the good shit. Canon-wise, this takes place before the meeting with Hanako, so there won't be any ending spoilers, but everything else is fair game.
> 
> POV character (River, Johnny, or V) will be indicated by name or by an R, J, or V by the chapter title. Thoughts, memories, flashbacks, and internal monologues of the POV character are _italicized._ If something I wrote made you smile or laugh or go "aww" or develop a crush/burning need for vengeance on a fictional character, and you've got the time and spoons, leave a comment! It means so much to me; you have no idea, I will live on a single piece of praise for weeeeeks. Even if all you do is read and enjoy, though, please know that I love you forever, kind internet stranger.
> 
> On with the show!  
> -KB

### River

River descended the steps to the Afterlife, feeling the pounding bass of the music even through the thick soles of his boots. The huscle at the door eyed him up and down, lip curling in derision.

“Ain’t a farm. No pigs.”

 _Do I know this guy?_ River held his hands up in mock surrender, the metal one whirring softly as the gears moved to spread his fingers. “Retired,” he said calmly. The guy didn’t look familiar--not someone River had personally put away. _Guess it takes a while for the polish on the badge to wear off._ Denizens of certain parts of Night City had senses keener than a monowire when it came to picking out cops, and River was apparently still setting those off. “‘Sides, I’m just here to pick up a friend.”

“Name? Yours and your friend’s.”

“River. V.”

The guy scowled, but his eye implants sparked blue as he communicated the information to his bosses. Finally, with a jerk of his head, he indicated River should go in. “At the bar. Don’t get comfy.”

“Thanks, choom.” River’s crooked smile only caused the huscle’s scowl to deepen. He barely resisted the urge to clap the man on the shoulder as he passed. It would’ve been funny to see the guy blow a gasket, but that wasn’t why he was there. 

That particular honor belonged to the lovely dark-skinned woman currently slumped halfway over the bar, chatting up the bartender. She bolted upright when she saw him, though, that wide, easy heartbreaker of a grin growing on her face.

“River!” she cried, sliding off the bar stool and starting towards him. She staggered almost immediately though, clutching at the bar to keep herself upright and giggling. River suppressed a deep sigh, mentally reorganizing his priorities for the evening.

V was drunk.

“Claire! Claire, I wantchu to meet someunnn… this’sh River! He’sh my input!”

 _Real_ drunk.

River made it to the bar just in time to catch her and keep her from falling when she started trying to walk towards him again. She leaned heavily against him, almost causing him to stagger at her sudden, surprising weight. _All that chrome hardware she’s got, I guess._ Fortunately, he had his own strength augments, and they kicked into gear to help him comfortably support his inebriated, partially metal-plated girlfriend.

“Hey,” he said quietly. She tried to kiss him and he turned his head away sharply, nostrils flaring. Her breath reeked of tequila and bile and… something else. _Blood?_ “Christ, V, how many have you had?”

She laughed again, unperturbed by his disgust. “I dunno, Officerrrrr… why don’t you take me to jail about it?” Pressing her wrists together and holding them out as if asking to be cuffed, she widened her eyes and batted her lashes up at him in a parody of innocent guile. The serial number printed around one of her irises slightly spoiled the effect--snipers’ eyes weren’t meant to impersonate puppy dogs’. Still, the sight hitched River’s breath for a second.

“I’ll file that request for later consideration,” he managed to say evenly, thinking cold water thoughts. “For now, we’re getting you home.”

V gasped happily and leaned forward on the bartop again, her tone a carefree singsong. “He’s taking me hooome! Claire, he liiiikesh me.”

“I can tell,” the red-haired bartender deadpanned with a smirk, picking up V’s empty glass and beginning to clean it. Her sharp gaze flicked to River, and he found himself under scrupulous professional assessment for the second time that night. Evidently, her conclusion was more favorable than the door guy’s had been. “Hey,” she said with a slightly warmer smile. “I’m Claire, as you might’ve guessed. Heard a lot about you, nice to meetcha.”

River was about to return the greeting when V interrupted him. “Claire is the besht bartender in the whooole city! The nicest, kindest, smartest, most beautiful, best at drinks an’ advice an’ she’sh a real good shot…” V trailed off, seemingly losing focus entirely for a moment. Her stance wavered, and River braced himself to catch her if she keeled over, but she managed to snap back to reality. “An’ she gave me a truck!” she added brightly.

“I did,” Claire agreed gamely, no doubt used to drunken ridiculousness from patrons. “And if you try to drive her in this state of intoxication, I will spit in every drink I give you from now until the end of time.”

V clutched her hand to her heart in a faux show of horror. “I would never! That’sh what River ish here for…” She slumped against him again with a warm sigh of contentment, and he slung an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer and keep her steady. “That an’ some other things…” She grinned slyly up at him, with several innuendo-laden eyebrow waggles. 

River rolled his remaining ‘ganic eye at her, and addressed himself to Claire. “Do you know how much she’s had?” Most bartenders in Night City wouldn’t bother to keep track of their customers’ intake, letting the booze flow as long as the eddies did, unless there was puking or property damage imminent. He suspected Claire was a higher caliber, though, which was confirmed when she nodded at him.

“Just a highball and a couple of shots. Honestly, it’s weird. Seen this one take six shots in twenty minutes and still able to walk a straight line. Never been this out of it. Think she might be on something, ‘sides the booze.” 

River had been thinking something similar. He’d gone drinking with V a couple of times, and while there was no denying the merc went hard when she partied, she’d never seemed less than in control of herself and aware of her surroundings. Whereas now…

A small snore sounded from his side. River gently shook V awake. “Hey. V, this is important.” She blinked slowly and smiled up at him. “V, listen. Did you take anything else tonight? Drugs, meds--anything? I don’t care if it was legal or not; I just need to know so that I can help you.”

Her brow furrowed in thought. “Jus’ some painkillers… oh! Did I tell you I got shot?” Excitedly, she hiked up the side of her shirt. River’s gaze caught momentarily on the smooth undercurve of her breast before dropping to fix on the large patch of white gauze below her ribs.

His jaw tightened. Anger at whoever had done this, fear at what might have happened, the familiar, aching exhaustion of always being a breath away from losing someone he loved--all flashed through his mind in a tumble of noise and clamor. But he was used to this kind of thing. He could compartmentalize, put away shit to deal with (or not) later, and focus on what he could do now. “Okay. Do you have the stuff you took? Where did you get it?” Part of his brain was slipping into cop mode, considering the local pharmas and who might be cutting their legit products with some bad shit to save an enny or two.

V dug deep in the pocket of her jacket and slapped a white, unmarked pill bottle on the counter. River picked it up. The thing was empty. V was frowning in concentration. “Uh… don’t ‘zactly recall where I got ‘em… they were in my pocket already… oh!” She perked up as she remembered. “Johnny got ‘em for me.”

River’s metal hand curled into a fist so tight the gears shrieked. “Silverhand… gave you an unmarked bottle of pills, from who knows where… and you took them? _All_ of them?”

V at least had the good grace to look slightly sheepish. “Wellll… there were only a few in there. And it really hurt at the time, okay? But now I’m fiiiine, an’ I feel good, an’ it doesn’t hurt at all! See?” She attempted to demonstrate her point by jabbing her finger directly into her bandaged wound, yelped in pain, and promptly fainted.

_Christ on a fucking pogo stick._

A few heads had turned towards them at the sudden commotion, and River wasn’t loving the attention. The pale, watery green light of the bar made everyone look half-dead. He hauled V upright enough that he could duck and catch her knees to scoop her up into a bridal type of carry. Claire looked at him with sympathy, and he shrugged. “She owe anything?” he asked the bartender.

“Nah. Got a tab.”

“Well, make sure to get yourself a good tip on her enny.” He smiled at Claire, knowing V wouldn’t mind. The woman over-tipped for everything.

Claire grinned in response. “Always do. Get her home safe, yeah?”

River adjusted his burden so her head settled against his shoulder. She sighed softly and curled closer into him. 

“Always do.”


	2. R) Sun and Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, a HUGE, EXTRAVAGANT, BREATHTAKING thank you to the folks who commented on the first chapter! My gonk brain's automatic response to to a compliment is, 'oh, they're just saying that to be nice'--so hearing that you enjoyed what I made, without knowing a thing about me or having any obligation to be nice to me, was pretty much the best feeling in the world. Not gonna lie, I jumped up and down a little bit. Seriously, thank you all so much.
> 
> On a more serious note, **content warnings** for this chapter: the fact that drunk people are frequently targeted for sexual assault will be brought up (not as a joke), but nothing will be discussed explicitly.
> 
> Thoughts, musings, flashbacks, memories, etc. of the chapter POV character are _italicized._  
>  -KB

### River

The parking lot of the Afterlife was a surprisingly popular gathering spot after dark. Low-level street huscle mixed with local teenagers and wanna-be mercs, drinking and shouting and blasting shitty music from their cars’ sound systems. They were there there to find work and catch up with friends and hook up with strangers, but mostly they were all there to hang out an arm’s reach away from greatness. Legends walked into and out of the Afterlife every night, and every kid in the parking lot was hungry for the moment it’d be their turn. River caught a few glares and scornful smirks thrown his and V’s way--evidently a guy carrying his drunk girlfriend home wasn’t quite badass enough for them. Thankfully, they all knew better than to hassle actual patrons of the bar.

River had spotted V’s Arch when he came in--the thing was hard to miss, with its gaudy Valentino-themed paint job. He’d deliberately parked nearby, which came in handy now. He got the slumbering woman settled in the front seat of his Thorton, and then loaded her bike into the back of the pickup truck. The drive back to V’s apartment was quiet; the merc in question barely stirred. River reached over to check her pulse once and was relieved to find it beating sure and steady under his fingers.

Once they were parked in the garage, he managed to rouse her enough to walk to the elevator mostly under her own power, though she leaned heavily on him and her eyes kept fluttering closed. He was uneasy. Carrying an unconscious woman around in Night City made him deeply uncomfortable--not because people thought he was up to something, but because nobody cared if he was. 

It was stupid how mad it made him that no one tried to stop them. They passed probably a dozen people on their trek through the megabuilding halls to V’s apartment door, and not a single one gave the clearly very drunk woman and her much larger, much more sober male escort so much as a disapproving glance. It almost made River want to set V gently down, in order to grab a stranger’s shoulders and scream in their face.

_‘Don’t you care what happens to her? She can’t fucking defend herself! At least ask her if she fuckin' knows me, for Christ’s sake! Doesn’t anybody in this city have a goddamn soul?!’_

V murmured something inaudible, and the tension knotted in River’s shoulders loosened enough to let them slump. _She does_ , he remembered with a tired smile. V had a soul, and a heart big enough to cover half the city. If they’d been strangers in this hallway, she would never have let him get away with dragging a half-conscious woman behind a locked door without a challenge. _Would’ve beat my ass into the pavement, too._ His smile widened. He’d seen her do shit like that before, more than once. _No wounded birds or helpless flowers on V’s watch. If you can’t bare your own teeth, she’ll lend you hers, and if you’ve got your own--well, she’ll make sure you get a chance to use ‘em._ It was one of the things he loved most about her. She protected and she served, like cops were supposed to, but she would’ve laughed in his face if he suggested that she did it out of a sense of duty or honor.

_“I just wanna make bad people hurt a little more, and good folks hurt a little less. Somethin’ weird about that?” They’d been lying in his bed, the late morning sun through the blinds making tiger stripes on her skin. Her chin rested on her folded arms, which rested on his bare chest. She shivered and cooed as his ‘ganic hand traced lightly along her scarred back to her flank._

_“Not weird,” he’d said, head still fuzzy with sleep and sex, trying to wrap his mind around this impossible, beautiful creature. “Well… kinda weird. But it shouldn’t be, and it isn’t to me… I wish it wasn’t weird. Wish everyone was like you.”_

_She’d chuckled and shimmed a little further up his body to plant a soft, teasing kiss on his cheek. “But then I wouldn’t be so fuckin’ special, would I?”_

_“No--I mean, you would be. Still. To me.” She laughed again at his hasty recovery, and he rolled his eye before lunging forward to crush her body to his, kissing her deeply and thoroughly. Her amusement faded into little humming moans, the heat of their mouths pressed together, gasps for breath in between--shit. He was hard again._

_She noticed. A wicked light that had nothing to do with cyberware sparked in her eyes, and she started to reach for him. He caught her wrist, and she looked at him in puzzlement. “You really think it works that way? Good people and bad people… seems to me lately it all starts to bleed together...”_

_He struggled to get the words out, the caveman part of his brain about ready to strangle him for stopping a girl from grabbing his cock so he could debate philosophy with her. But this same question had been haunting him, ever since he quit the force._

_Maybe even longer._

_“People doin’ bad shit for good reasons. People tryin’ to be good and doing harm anyway. What’s the point of callin’ any of it good or bad? Aren’t we all just… fucking around in the dark, passin’ time until we die?”_

_He realized he’d been too unguarded, let too much of his own pain and fear and confusion slip through, because a hint of pity entered V’s gaze. It was gone in the next second though, replaced by something like reverence._

_“Oh, River…” she said, his name held tenderly in her warm, husky voice. She lay down beside him, touching her forehead to his. “I don’t fuckin’ know what I’m doin’, or why I’m doin’ it either. Somethin’ feels right to me, I do it. Sometimes I regret it later, an’ I try to remember that feeling so I don’t do the same stupid shit over again,” she murmured, barely louder than a whisper. “You ain’t wrong about people… most of us just tryin’ our best and hopin’ it’s enough.”_

_River felt his heart sink, and he wasn’t sure why. Had he been hoping she’d call him a gonk and dismiss him offhand? But she was still talking. “All the same, I know-- **I know** \--that there’s evil in this world. There’s acts too vile an’ wrongheaded to ever be mistaken for good, an’ there’s those who gladly commit ‘em for power an’ profit an’ sheer bloody fun.” Her tone was pure chrome and conviction, and River had no cause to argue with her. He’d seen more than his share of evil, after all. “And--listen t’me, this is the important part--just as sure as I am that there’s evil… I know that there’s good.” _

_The fierceness in her expression startled River as she continued. “There’s folks with good hearts. They may fuck up and break shit an’ make things worse sometimes, but they don’t stay there an’ wallow. They fix what needs fixin’ and get back to work. An’ they don’t ever stop.” The intensity of her regard pinned him in place like an exotic insect in a box. “One more thing I am absolutely sure of--sure as sun an’ sky. You, River Ward, are a good man.”_

V belched loudly, which brought River abruptly and rudely back to the present moment. The merc jostled his arm as she leaned over to let the scanner by her door read her biometrics, and it let them in without a fuss. The ambient noise of advertisements echoing through the megabuilding immediately dropped away as soon as the door closed, and River managed to support V’s staggering walk and ungraceful flop onto her bed.

He knelt down to start unlacing her boots for her, and heard her let out a long, heartfelt groan. “River?” she asked, sounding more like herself than she had all night.

“I’m here,” he assured her, tugging one foot free of its shoe prison and starting on the next.

“‘S good,” she murmured. Then, a little quieter still, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I mean, sure, ideally don’t get fucked up this bad in the future, but since you did--I’m glad you called me. I want to be here for you when you need me.” He finished with the boots and moved to sit on the bed beside her. She sat halfway up and started fumbling to remove her jacket; he helped her ease it off her shoulders. She leaned against him again, seemingly exhausted by even that small effort.

“Hurts again,” she mumbled, her hand drifting to her bandaged injury. 

River caught her hand before it got there, and laced her fingers with his own. “Well don’t touch it then, you gonk,” he said, rife with both affection and exasperation. He kissed her knuckles lightly. Performing his own quick optic scan, he judged the wound safe for the moment. No sign of infection, nothing bleeding through. Probably Vik had stitched her up already. “Need help with your jeans, or are you gonna sleep with 'em on?” he asked.

“Tryna get into my pants, hmmm?” she teased, a bit of the loopy silliness from earlier in the evening on display. She pulled their joined hands down until his palm rested on her lower stomach, fingertips just touching the button of her jeans. River felt the yielding warmth of her flesh and remembered what it was like to sink his hands in until he felt the firmness of toned, augmented muscle beneath.

“Not this time,” he said regretfully, gently prying her hand away so he could get the buttons undone. She gave a disappointed sigh, and wiggled her hips a bit more than strictly necessary to help River get them free of her tight jeans, which earned her a light smack on the thigh from him. “Down, girl.” She squealed in delighted surprise, and he grinned at her despite himself. “Don’t be cruel. You know I don’t sleep with drunk women.”

V pouted at him, falling back on her elbows dramatically as he finished peeling her out of the pants. “Even your output?”

“Even my output, the most beautiful woman in the world, who is you,” he teased her with a smirk. Having divested her of most of her clothes, except a tank top and panties, River shoved the comforter aside to make room for the merc on the cool, clean sheets, and got a pillow under her head. 

V yawned and smiled sleepily up at him, mollified by praise and not really that upset to begin with. “‘Kay. But you owe me one, mister.”

“Of course,” River replied with mock gravitas. “Gentleman always pays his debts.”

V’s laugh was slightly muffled by her pillow. “Oh, fuck off then. Gentlemen ain’t welcome ‘round here.”

River smiled softly, reaching out to stroke her hair with his ‘ganic hand. “Need anything before I go? Protein bar, can of water?”

V didn’t respond at first, and River thought she might have passed out again. Her eyes remained shut, and she sounded like she was far away when she did speak. “Takin’ care of me… ‘s nice. Nobody does that, ‘cept Jackie…”

River involuntarily flinched at the name. Not that he disliked the man--on the contrary, from what V had told him, he thought he would’ve liked him quite a bit if they’d ever met and the timing had been right, with neither of them on the force or in a gang. But the subject of Jackie, or to be precise, his death, could crush V’s spirits faster than anything else. Every time it came up, River could see the fight and fire within her gutter and fade, and she seemed to shrink into herself, sick with guilt and pain. It was awful to watch, which was why just the name could set River on edge, anticipating his lover’s reaction.

But V didn’t appear to notice what she’d said, or maybe she was too strung out to remember that Jackie was gone. Her breathing deepened as she drifted further towards oblivious slumber. River let himself relax, and carefully began to stand, trying not to disturb her as he left.

“--?”

V’s hand had shot out and grabbed his sleeve. Her eyelids parted just slightly, her gaze bleary but determined. “Stay.” River sighed and readied himself to talk her down again, but she interrupted him before he could start. “Not for sex. Just… stay with me. Please…”

The unexpected invitation struck him like a thunderbolt to the chest, and River found himself sitting down again and pulling off his shoes before the option of refusing her request even occurred to him. But he didn’t want to go. 

He’d thought he was fine leaving, taking the lonely truck ride back to his empty bed at his sister’s place in the trailer park, but the second V asked him to stay he realized how desperately he had wanted her to. He wanted to hold her, and be held, for them to seek comfort and warmth in each other and soothe each other when the dreams got bad. He wanted to wake up next to her, make her coffee, have breakfast together, talk about stupid nothings while they both still had morning breath. To have something with her, in whatever time they had, that was small and messy and crooked but perfect and only theirs.

River stripped down to his boxers, turning off the apartment’s dim blue lighting as he climbed into bed beside V. He pulled the covers over them both, and she settled into his embrace with a small, kittenish sound of contentment. He held her tighter than he should have, maybe, but she didn’t break. That wasn’t her style.

River could hear, distantly, traffic from the street below, even eight stories up. Voices raised in fear or anger or passion. Once, a gunshot. Horrible things were always happening out there, in the darkness of the city, and some of them would sooner or later become his problem. Because he still protected, and he still served, even without a badge--even without hope that things would ever be any different. 

_"You, River Ward, are a good man."_

He couldn’t bring himself to believe like she did, to have her kind of faith in the goodness of people. Maybe it was because of their respective work histories--she waded through every flavor of underworld scum, and so when she found moments of compassion or nobility even there, it prompted her to believe they could be found anywhere. River, meanwhile, had spent his career around people who completely believed they were on the right side of everything, and yet would happily sell out or abuse their fellow human beings at the smallest fraction of an excuse. It made him sick to think that he’d stood by and let it all happen around him for as long as he had. He’d tried to stop the worst offenses, of course, but every time he threw his weight around he had a little less to throw, until the only cop in the precinct who would speak to him outside of work was Han.

Han, his buddy, who had helped cover up a man’s murder and used the payout for his kid’s education, and didn’t see a damn thing wrong with that.

V, truly asleep now, twisted around and let out a whimper as the movement stretched her injured side. River steadied her, resting his metal fingertips on her hip. He wouldn’t attempt to hold her completely still--that would probably make the dreams worse, if anything--but he could try to slow any abrupt motions and keep her from hurting herself. She’d done the same for him once, before they were lovers.

_“Bad dreams?” she’d asked, not unkindly. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. They were on a stakeout together, perched on a rooftop across the street from an NCPD lab. Place was supposed to be empty, but there was a light on in an office and a shadow moved around inside. Someone was working late, so River and V had no choice but to wait._

_He grimaced as he sat up, feeling the cold sweat that had soaked through his t-shirt and stuck the thin fabric to his chest. “Yeah. That obvious?”_

_“Kinda. You were fighting somethin’ and almost rolled off the roof. I had to hold you down.” River snorted skeptically, eyeing the woman’s biceps. She had some definite meat there, but he was a big heavy guy, not even counting his chrome. The merc noticed him looking and flexed her arm with a cocky smirk. “Stronger than I look. Not to mention some fuckin’ preem muscle fiber upgrades.”_

_“Hah. Fair enough.” River scrubbed his coat sleeve over his face, removing some of the sweat and grime clinging to his skin. “Thanks, anyway.”_

_“Nah. Was savin’ my own ass, really. Soon’s word got around I’d let a client bite it fallin’ off a roof in his sleep, I’d be laughed outta work in this town for good.” She grinned easily, but still carried a hint of worry in her expression. “You good to go? Think our busy bee over there is about done for the night.” Even as she spoke, the light in the office across the street switched off._

_“Yeah,” said River, getting to his feet. The dreams were still swirling around in his head--laughing men in bloody masks, the sickening weight of a gun in his hand--but he could beat them back if he could just get moving. V hopped up obligingly, her sniper rifle already disassembled and packed away in its case. She’d been using it to watch the office through the scope._

_“Binoculars probably would’ve been easier,” River remarked to her as she locked the case down and slung it over her shoulder._

_“I know. I like the rifle, though. Makes me feel like I got some kinda control over what I see, ‘stead of just watchin’ and lettin’ shit happen.” Her tone was so casual, it would’ve taken a close friend or a skilled cold reader to spot the wound pulsing beneath them. River was one of those things, and he caught a glimpse. But she hadn’t pressed him about his nightmares, so he let it go._

_“Nice night for breaking and entering,” he said instead, and was rewarded with the sound of V’s brazen, husky laugh._

_“Shit yeah! Let’s go commit some misdemeanors.”_

Looking back on it, he probably should’ve noticed he was falling for her sooner. But he was a gonk, and she was beautiful, and they had nothing in common, except then it turned out they had everything in common. Same sense of humor. Same unbridled, unabashed love for those they considered family. Same rage when they saw an injustice taking place.

Same bad fucking dreams.

V was definitely having a nightmare. Her breathing was ragged and she was shivering despite the shared heat of their bodies and blankets. River kept her close but held her lightly, ready to let her go if she needed it. As it turned out, she didn’t. 

Even when the dreams were at their worst, V didn’t try to leave River’s arms the whole night.


	3. V) The Woodchipper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings** for this chapter: throwing up is mentioned but not described, reference to non-consensual drugging. Also: there's smut! 
> 
> Thoughts of the chapter POV character are _italicized._ V's mental speech to Johnny is _'italicized and in single quotes.'_
> 
> Enjoy!  
> -KB

### V

V woke up to a throbbing headache, roiling nausea, and a hot cop in her bed; one of which was infinitely more welcome than the other two. She carefully extricated herself from the situation, though she couldn’t help but let out a pained hiss as the wound in her side made its presence felt. River didn’t stir. His skin was tan and weathered, almost as dark as hers, but he looked a little too pale, and his ‘ganic eye seemed sunken and shadowed. 

_Probably kept him up half the night with my fuckin’ nonsense._ V rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. She leaned over, ignoring the protests from her injury, and planted a feather-light kiss on the man’s forehead, before getting up to use the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, she was brushing her teeth _really_ thoroughly and feeling a little better. An opened can of still water sat beside her hand, balanced on the edge of the sink, and she kept reminding herself to drink from it. Rehydrating after rearranging the contents of one’s stomach was important, after all. Her bullet wound hurt like an absolute bitch, but she was not even slightly tempted to try self-medicating the pain away again. She’d stop by Vik’s later and see if he could give her something for it, maybe.

V ducked to spit the foaming remains of her toothpaste tab in the sink, and when she came up there was a deeply insufferable smirking rockerboy in the mirror behind her. She did not do him the courtesy of flinching.

 _‘Jesus Christ, Johnny. Horror BD cliché much?’_ She preferred talking to him out loud when she could: even if it made her look crazy, it made her feel less crazy than using their weird telepathy did. But River was there and she didn’t want to wake him by yelling at her less-than-imaginary friend.

The engram tipped his shades down and peered at her over the top of them, still smirking. “Boo.”

 _‘Did you want something, or are you just here to watch me puke?’_ V finished off her can of water and tossed it into the garbage a little more forcefully than she meant to.

“Column A, column B, who gives a shit?” Johnny folded his arms and casually leaned back against the wall. The buzzing yellow fluorescent lights reflected off his smooth leather pants, and V hated the fact that he looked like a goddamn rock god there in her bathroom at half past ass’o’clock in the morning. As if he could read her mind (sometimes he could), his smirk widened into a grin. “Starin’ at my junk again, V?”

 _‘Get fucked, Silverhand.’_ V flipped him the bird and started digging around in her drawer of first aid supplies. _‘The hell was that shit you gave me yesterday, anyhow?’_

“Good doc Vik told ya to take it easy. Thought you could use some help, considerin’ you wouldn’t know a chill day if it called you ‘kiddo’ and fucked your mother twice a week.”

V whirled to glare at him, accidentally knocking some of the supplies she’d set on the counter to the floor in the process. _‘I was takin’ it easy. Don’t gotta be strung out of my goddamn mind for that.’_

“Don’t you?” With a blur of pale blue pixelization, Silverhand vanished from the wall and rematerialized directly in front of her, sans shades this time. His dark eyes were uncharacteristically serious, though his voice sounded as indifferent as ever. “‘Cuz I seem to remember you were headed out the door to do a job, even with a goddamn hole in your gut, ‘til I convinced you to take some fuckin’ pills at least.”

V couldn’t exactly argue, but tried anyway. _‘Job woulda been an easy one.’_

Silverhand scoffed. “Unfuckingbelieveable. Goddamn miracle there’s room for me in that skull of yours with how thick it is.” He prodded her sternum hard with one cybernetic finger, and she felt it. “Listen to me, V. You can’t hide _shit_ from me. You’re a walkin’ four-car pileup, a tangle of nerves and hormones and nightmares that’s cookin’ under pressure ‘til it’s about ready to go nuclear. If I’d had you at ‘Saka Tower, I wouldn’t’ve needed a bomb; coulda just shoved you down the elevator shaft and called it a day, get it?”

She growled at him and tried to swat his hand away, but her own just went right through him, dragging a few blue pixels in her wake. _‘So what? You care about my mental well-bein’ so much you had to fuckin’ roofie me for my own good, is that it?’_

A cord of muscle in Johnny’s neck twitched. He wasn’t smirking at all anymore. “Yeah, V. I care. I’m a callous, narcissistic bastard graced with all the empathy God gave a woodchipper, and I fuckin’ care what happens to you more than you do. Do you not see how completely _fucked up_ that is?”

V froze, her gaze locked with Johnny’s. She wanted him to crack first--make a joke, insult her, change the subject, anything to break through the intense, naked _sincerity_ of the moment. But he didn’t, and he was still looking at her like he expected an answer.

“V? You okay?” River entered the room, and Johnny vanished into the digital ether.

V let out a breath she’d been holding for too long. “Yeah. Just… hashin’ some things out with Silverhand.”

River scowled as he bent to retrieve the first aid supplies V had accidentally knocked to the ground. “Guy’s kind of an asshole, huh?”

V chuckled in a tired way, running a hand through her short, spiky hair. “Oh my god, it’s like you know him personally.”

Her dumb joke drew a wry grin from River, and he knocked twice on the counter beside the sink. “Come on. Plant your ass here and I’ll help you wrap up that bandage.” He was holding the supplies she’d gathered--scissors, waterproof medical tape, and a roll of thin plastic wrap.

She did as he suggested, and together they managed to create a plastic seal over the gauze-covered wound so it wouldn’t get wet in the shower. “Comin’ in with me?” she asked as he helped her down from her perch. “‘S no luxury spa, but it’s bigger than the one at Joss’s place. Room for two.”

“If you don’t mind the company.” The gentle flirtation in River’s warm, deep voice made V’s toes curl.

“Not a damn bit.”

The hot water felt amazing on her skin, rinsing away the stickiness of her sweat and the sour smell of booze and bile. She had to step back to let River have a turn under the spout, but it was worth losing the heat for the view she got. Water sluiced down River’s form, trickling in rivulets over the curves of his admirably developed muscles, collecting in the divot of his collarbone, beading in his eyelashes, which were unusually long for a man. With soap he’d borrowed from V, River lathered up and rinsed out the dark thatches of hair under each arm and at his groin, before giving the stubble of his scalp and jaw a cursory scrub as well. 

Catching V’s… aesthetic appreciation, River gave her a crooked grin and brandished the bar of soap at her like a weapon. “You’re next, merc.”

Before she could parse out exactly what kind of good time he was threatening her with, he’d switched places with her so she was under the water again and he was running the bar down her back. It felt nice. Soon he’d given up on the bar, foaming the soap between his hands instead and using his broad, steady palms to coat V’s skin in lather. She hummed a note of pure pleasure, letting her eyes fall shut so she could focus on River’s touch.

He was good at this shit. The contrast between the warm, rough callouses of his ‘ganic hand and the slick, cool metal of the other was exciting enough, but the former badge really knew how to put what he had to best use. Delicate, teasing brushes of his fingertips made V fiercely aware of every inch of her own skin, and when he sank his grip in deeper, to knead away the tension she carried in her shoulders and thighs, she groaned with gratitude. Eventually, his hands came up, carefully skirting her injured side, to glide over her ribcage and settle on her small breasts. 

V bit her lower lip sharply as River’s thumbs flicked over her nipples. She was already having trouble keeping her balance in the slippery stall, and one hand shot out to brace herself on the wall in front of her. She heard her input chuckle behind her, and she was on the verge of delivering a smart remark, when his hands started moving again, squeezing and massaging the tender flesh of her breasts, catching a nipple now and then with another flick or a gentle tug. Words retreated from her as quickly as heat flowed to her cunt.

“Havin’ fun?” she managed to formulate at last.

“Passes the time.” River sounded gently amused, but with an edge of hunger beneath the words that V recognized. She turned to face him--sure enough, the man was hard as chrome. 

_Nice of him not to make it my problem,_ V thought. She grinned wolfishly up at him and wrapped her own hand firmly around his erection. _I can make it my problem all on my own._

River seemed surprised, but all too happy to yield the floor to V. Her palm darted over the head of his cock, slicking herself with his precum for lubrication. She worked his shaft with long, smooth strokes, her fist tightening around him in a pulsing rhythm. The man made a strangled sound deep in his throat and leaned heavily against the wall. V honestly wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad sign, but the way his breathing was deepening and the fact that he hadn’t mounted a rescue operation to free his cock from her tyrannical grasp suggested she was on the right track. She kept at it, stepping in closer to press her curves into him and give his neck a little bite. His Adam’s apple bobbed hard, and his hips bucked towards her hand.

“Good? Or more? Less?” V asked River for his preference, speeding up and slowing down to illustrate the options. His nostrils flared sharply and he actually _growled_ as she went faster and harder.

“More,” he grunted, and V did her best to oblige. Her hand flew furiously up and down the length of him, pumping him as hard as she dared. She had him twitching and dripping precum, but she sensed a frustration growing in him too. Sure enough, after another minute, he nudged her hand aside and replaced it with his own. V didn’t mind--it might be a good while before either of them knew what the other liked well enough to get each other off with nothing but their hands. She dropped her grip lower, rolling his balls between her fingers as he brought himself through the last few strokes to climax.

With a shudder, River spent himself and slumped back against the wall. His chest heaved as his breath tried to catch up with the rest of him. V took his ‘ganic hand in hers and raised it to her lips. While he recovered, she ran her tongue along every digit, swirling it over the pads of his fingers, delving deep into the creases of his palm, cleaning him and claiming every drop of his cum that had spilled there. By the time she was finished, letting his thumb escape her mouth with a soft pop of air, River was watching her intently through a heavy-lidded eye.

“You’re a dangerous woman, V.”

“Must be why all these cops are after me,” she agreed amiably, and pulled him back under the hot water so they could finish rinsing off.


	4. V) String Theory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings** for this chapter: a moment of fuzzy consent (which is quickly clarified), blood in the context of first aid, reference to a childhood history of abuse, kink discussion (including a sex-negative slur used as a term of endearment). 
> 
> Thoughts, memories, and flashbacks of the chapter POV character are _italicized._  
>  -KB

### V

The water in the shower was still running hot. 

“Anything I can do for you…?” That hungry edge came softly back into River’s voice. 

V shook her head. “Better not. Vik’ll kill me if I keep poppin’ stitches.”

“I’ll be gentle,” River promised, and he bent down to kiss her. V melted into the kiss, unaware that he was backing her into the wall until she hit it. One of his hands tangled in her hair, which was just barely long enough for him to get a decent grip. The other hand drifted down her body, caressing her flank briefly before slipping between her legs. River smiled into their kiss when he felt how wet she was. His finger parted her folds, circling her clit with tantalizing, agonizing slowness. Once… twice…

Several things happened in very rapid succession. First, V’s body responded to River’s teasing with a deep flex of her pelvic muscles, which made the muscles in her abdomen jump, which tore at the bullet wound there, which hurt kind of excruciatingly badly. V’s brain whited out from the pain momentarily, and she started to fall. Pinned between River’s body and the shower wall, she actually didn’t have much of anywhere to go, but River overbalanced in his haste to catch her and the stall was, as previously established, slippery, so they both ended up in a heap on the floor, River flat on his back and V on top of him.

After confirming V was all right, River started to laugh. “Okay. That one was all on me, and I deserve the headache I have coming from bouncing my skull off the tile.” His rueful chuckles rumbled in his chest, and V could feel the reverb where they were pressed skin to skin.

“I wasn’t exactly complainin’,” V remarked, but River waved off her attempt to take a share of the blame.

“Nah, you warned me, I was the gonk not takin’ no for an answer. Forgive me?” He smiled brilliantly up at her. “Better yet--next time you catch me usin’ the wrong head to think with, kick me in one or the other ‘til I remember the difference.”

“I ain’t runnin’ a charity here; there’s joytoys who charge good money for that kinda service.” V teased him mercilessly. “But sure, I forgive ya. Gonk.” She kissed him, and began the cautious process of standing up again.

Once they were both clean and out of the shower, V unwrapped her injury to examine it. Blood seeped to the surface, strained by the recent excitement, but the stitches were holding. She dabbed away the blood with a sterile swab until it started clotting again, and River helped her rebandage the area. The man was just plain good with his hands, deft and sure whether he was administering first aid or facilitating orgasms. V’s thighs clenched at the thought, and she bit the inside of her cheek hard to distract herself and avoid a repeat incident.

Sometimes, having a sex drive was so fucking inconvenient.

River only had the clothes he’d worn yesterday, so V lent him a clean pair of men’s sweatpants she had lying around. Thankfully he didn’t ask where she got them, because she honestly couldn’t remember. They might’ve once belonged to a hook-up of hers, but she could’ve just as easily borrowed them from Vik after a surgery, or Jackie after some job that got her own clothes too fucked up to function.

_Jackie…_

A familiar emptiness crawled up her chest and filled her throat. 

_“C’mooon, chica!” The ex-Valentino ganger had groaned, his arm landing around V’s shoulders with enough weight to make her stagger. They were both more than a little drunk in the back room of the Coyote. He was teaching her to throw darts. “I’ve seen ya knock the glasses off a gonk from three blocks away an’ ten stories up with that devil eye of yours! This ain’t that hard!”_

_V ducked out from under Jackie’s hold, no less annoyed by her lack of progress than he was. “Well maybe if your bellyachin’ was a little fuckin’ quieter I’d have a chance to fuckin’ aim!”_

_“Aim ain’t the problem, chica.” Jackie tapped the side of his nose, treating V to one of his supremely irritating, wiser-than-thou grins. “Not about what you’re seein’, ‘s about what you’re feeeelin’.”_

_“You shittin’ me, Welles? Didja go an’ join a Zen fuckin’ monastery while I wasn’t lookin’?” V dropped out of her throwing stance, hand still clutching the dart, and turned to glare at her friend. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”_

_“That bullseye there--’s connected to a string. You can’t see it, but that string runs allll the way to the tip of the dart in your hand. ‘S elastic, like. All you gotta do is, you pull the string--pull the dart back, smooth and gentle like, feelin’ the way that string gives an’ quivers, and how bad it wants to snap that dart an’ that board right back together. Then ya give it a little--” Jackie made a flourish out of a quick twist of his wrist, “--zip, let it fly, an’ let the string do the rest.”_

_V raised her brows in pure skepticism, but Jackie’s sunny smile radiated confidence. “Fine,” V grumbled, taking her stance again. “But this is fuckin’ stupid, for the record.” Jackie didn’t deign to grace her complaint with a response. He just kept grinning at her like a fool._

_She tried to imagine the string in her mind, picturing it like the red line of a laser sight connecting her dart’s tip to the bullseye. When she had it firmly visualized, she pulled her hand back for the throw, smooth and gentle like Jackie said, and almost thought she felt something--a resistance she was tugging against, a force that wanted her to let go. Without thinking about it, her wrist flicked and the dart flew forward, straight along the line she had drawn in her mind. It landed with a thud, tip embedded deep in the ring right beside the bullseye--the best shot she’d made all night._

_Jackie whooped and crushed her in a fervent one-armed hug, his other hand clapping her on the chest in a congratulatory gesture. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, chica!” V started to grin, but was cut off by Jackie’s next joyous proclamation. “Can’t believe that shit worked!”_

_V shoved him off and turned to gape at him, incredulous. “You tellin’ me you were full of shit the whole time?”_

_“‘Course I fuckin’ was!” Jackie grinned at her with all his teeth and absolutely no shame. “But it fuckin’ worked!” He wiggled his fingers and hummed like some fortune-telling bot down by the pier. “Oooooh, feel the string, V!”_

_V couldn’t help it; she cracked up and started laughing so hard, she had to lean on the nearby pool table for support. When she’d recovered enough to breathe, Jackie was there, handing her another shot of tequila and clinking his own tiny glass against hers before downing it._

_“You know you’re a dead man, Welles,” she said conversationally. There was no ire in her tone, only affectionate humor._

_Jackie spread his arms wide and smirked at her like a challenge. “If it’s you that kills me, chica, I’ll die a happy man.”_

“V?”

“Huh?” V asked, startled out of her memories.

“You’ve been starin’ at your closet for a while. Pretty sure you aren’t gettin’ dressed for a ball.” River’s gentle teasing nudged V back to reality, and she managed to grab a tank top and gym shorts to start getting changed.

“How would you know, anyway?” she bantered easily, the distraction a welcome one. “Maybe I got a ball or two on my docket. I am the prettiest fuckin’ princess in all the land, after all.” Now dressed, she finished toweling off her hair and threw the towel over the back of her computer chair to dry.

“Can’t argue with that.” River was sitting on her couch, one arm draped over the back and one ankle resting comfortably on his opposite knee. He smiled his crooked smile at her, sun from the window beside him gleaming bronze off the muscles of his bare chest. The impression was overall frustratingly fuckable, made worse when he curled a finger to beckon her over. “C’mere, Your Majesty,” he said, gruff and fond at the same time.

V ambled over to lean against the window nearby, but didn’t risk coming within arm’s reach of River. She didn’t totally trust herself not to do something stupid and painful.

_But it’d be worth it…_

A memory from the night before surfaced, and embarrassed heat suffused V’s face. “Did I… did I ask you to arrest me last night at the bar?”

“You did.” River sounded amused. V groaned, dropping her forehead to rest on the thick plastic of the window. “It was hot,” he added.

V turned her head slightly to look at him. “Yeah? Didn’t know you were into that…” she said, carefully neutral, even while her heart started beating faster.

“Oh yeah,” River said, gazing off into the middle distance with a small smirk. “Not gonna lie, that kinda thing was in my fantasies a lot as a dumb kid. Some joytoy pleading with me to get her charges dropped? ‘Oh officer, I’ll do _any_ thiiing…’’' He imitated a high and fluttery falsetto, earning him a chuckle from V. He chuckled too, and shrugged. “Gonk shit like that. Then when I actually got the job, of course it was nothing like that. Arrestin’ people who were cryin’, screamin’, callin’ me names, none of ‘em particularly sexy… threats, too. And all the paperwork!” The man let out a heartfelt sigh of disgust and ran his mechanical hand over his scalp. “Not gonna miss the fuckin’ paperwork, lemme tell ya. But how about you?” He looked over at V again, raising an eyebrow and grinning. “Into any freaky shit?”

“Hooo. Okay.” V took a deep breath and turned to face him, folding her arms tightly against her body. “So the short answer is, fuck yeah I am, but the long answer’s kinda complicated and I’d need to tell you about it before we tried anything. You wanna hear it?”

River inclined his head in a nod. “Please. If you wanna tell me.”

“All right.” V paused, suddenly lost at where to start. River didn’t seem to mind waiting, though. “So… you know all about the recent traumas and dramas in my life, the biochip, Jackie, Silverhand… but we haven’t really talked about the older stuff. Where I came from, how I got from there to here in NC, and all that.” River nodded again, but thankfully didn’t interrupt. “Some… real bad shit happened to me when I was younger, River. Bad enough that, whatever you just imagined when I said ‘bad shit’, I’m gonna need you to picture it about three or four times worse.”

_Knotted electrical cords biting into her wrists, ripping apart old scabs to bleed again. Sweltering heat and thirst so intense it was like fire in her guts, in her throat. The mingled stenches of piss and sweat and vomit and stale cum. Somewhere in the dark, someone was crying again, and it might’ve been her._

Fighting down a wave of nausea and memories, V pressed on. “A lot of what happened--I can’t talk about. Not that I won’t, River-- _I can’t_.” She was pleading with him with her eyes, asking him to understand what she couldn’t articulate. He held out his ‘ganic hand to her, and closed his warm, strong fingers around hers.

“V,” he said quietly, his expression sad and kind all at once. “I’m here with you, and all I want from you… is whatever you want to share with me, all right?” He squeezed her hand. “You don’t owe me anything. Not even explanations.”

“I want to tell you… some things. Some day.” V couldn’t quite look directly at River, but he reached out to set a metal fingertip under her chin and bring her distant gaze in line with his.

“Whatever you want, even if it’s nothing. Whenever you want to, even if it’s never,” he said, his solemn eyes and gentle touch holding her in place. “Understand?”

V nodded. He released her chin but kept hold of her hand. It took the merc a moment to find her voice again.

“So… here’s the thing,” she managed hesitantly. “All this bad stuff happened, right? And I lived, and got out, so you’d think I’d just toss it all in the dumpster at the back of my brain and set it on fire. But my gonk fuckin’ libido… imprinted, or some shit, or maybe it was always like that, I dunno. When I remember stuff that happened… some of it was just horrible and it hurt, end of story. Some of it… turns me on like like nothin’ fuckin’ else.” She laughed bitterly, then sighed. “Anyway. That’s the package deal, with me. We can do some real fun, fucked up shit together, but there’s always gonna be a giant fuckin’ red ‘DO NOT PUSH’ button that we’re gettin’ real close to pushin’.”

“Okay,” River said simply.

V frowned at him. “Feels like you ain’t takin’ me seriously.”

“V…” River looked up at her, and the crease between his brows suggested he was struggling to find the right words. “I know you’re dead serious, and I know you’re tellin’ me all this to protect me. Because you think that if I hurt you by accident, it’ll hurt me too. And you’re not too far wrong; I’d have a hell of a time forgiving myself if I really did manage to break you. But you’re also not givin’ either of us enough credit. We’re both _survivors_ , you and I. You’re too strong for me to break, and I’m too stubborn to let you break yourself over me. We take care of each other, got it?” 

The earnest passion of River’s argument left V speechless for a moment. Then, slowly, a relieved smile broke out on her face, and she felt an unknown weight leave her shoulders. “You’re right. I’m a gonk.”

River stood up to kiss her, settling his hands gently on her hips. “Not a gonk. Just scared to trust. Yourself, or others… believe me, I know the feeling.” V looped her arms around his neck and let herself sink into the embrace.

The kiss was long and sweet, but River wasn’t finished with her. He caught her hand as she started to pull away, and pressed his lips softly to the small scars that were etched into the side of her wrist. “So… handcuffs. Yes or no?” A wicked light was dancing in his ‘ganic eye, and V couldn’t help but grin at him.

“Yes. Please.”

“Interesting,” he mused playfully, placing another kiss on the inside of her wrist and using his free arm to draw her closer. “Threats? Being called names?”

“Yes and yes,” V said, a thrill running up her spine as River bent down to murmur in her ear, his breath hot and his voice a predatory growl.

“Bein’ tied down and fucked so hard you can’t walk straight, you little slut?” 

Arousal flooded V’s system, followed closely by a searing spike of fire from her side as her muscles flexed involuntarily. Her knees started to buckle, but River caught her easily, chuckling. “Guess we’ve got a plan for our next date, then.”

“Promise?” V panted, trying to catch the breath that pain had stolen.

“Sure thing. Soon as you’re healed up.” River eased her down to sit on the couch and knelt beside her, giving her a minute to recover. “Which reminds me--seems like a bad idea for you to be touching yourself in your current condition. Dangerous, even.”

“Eh, I’ll be f--” V started to wave away his concern, before realizing his actual intent. “--oh. You, ah, might have a point. Think I should hold off?”

“Might be for the best,” River replied, barely trying to hide a mischievous smirk. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Fuck…” V groaned, letting her head fall back on the couch cushions and covering her face with her palms. “Why do I feel like I’m gonna regret this?”


	5. V) Fucking, Finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A double update b/c I didn't want to leave anyone feeling... unfulfilled. Haahaha I am hilarious, anyway it's kinky smut time, folks! If anything on the following list makes you uncomfortable, maaaaaybe don't read this chapter or the next (you won't miss anything plot-wise, I promise, it's just fucking and a small bit of aftercare [yes this story does have a plot how dare you]). 
> 
> **Content warnings:** slurs against sex workers and women used as terms of affection, consensual non-consent to sexual activity, bondage, male Dom/fem sub dynamics, forced orgasm/orgasm denial, choking/breath play, treating a person's body like an object (consensually), crying & bruises in the context of sex.
> 
> Hope you lovely people enjoy the read as much as I enjoyed writing it!~  
> -KB

### V

“Badge is late.”

A week later, and Vik finally pronounced V’s wound “about as good as it’s gonna get, I guess.” With that sterling endorsement, V had invited River over the second she got home.

“He’s not late, Johnny. I barely called him an hour ago.” V was kicked back in her computer chair, a partially disassembled pistol sitting on the desk beside her as she carefully cleaned the components. The engram of a certain rock legend/terrorist was pacing back and forth by the window, looking even more pissed off than usual.

“Doesn’t take an hour to get here from that shithole trailer park of his,” Silverhand groused. “He ain’t even got a job anymore! What’s draggin’ his ass?”

“Since when do you give a shit?” V asked, switching out her polishing rag for a fresh one. “You hate the guy.”

“Yeah, but you don’t.” Silverhand paused to flick on a digital lighter and light a digital cigarette, cupping it in his hands to shield it from a nonexistent breeze. “In fact,” he said, gesturing at V with the cigarette held between his fingers for emphasis. “You’ve got a goddamn raging hard-on for that prick.”

V snorted. “Y’know, with my junk, we usually just call it ‘gettin’ wet.’”

Silverhand took a drag from his cigarette, and let the smoke stream out his nostrils. “Nnnnope. Sounds weird. Long as I’m in your head, you’re gettin’ hard-ons.”

“Lucky me,” V said dryly. Semantics aside, her obnoxious mental hitchhiker did have a point. It’d been over a week since she’d gotten off, and shit was getting ridiculous. Everything made her think about sex. She’d almost come the other day just by riding her motorcycle past a goddamn Mr. Stud ad. Even the act of polishing the pistol in her hands was turning disturbingly phallic. Waiting for River was more or less torture at this point; she was possessed by a deep, full-body, aching need to be touched and fucked and _used_ by him.

Not that she would admit any of that to _Johnny_.

There was a knock at the door.

“FUCKING FINALLY!” Silverhand bellowed, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “V, if that washed-up pig-fucker doesn’t make you come your fucking brains out at least six times before morning, I’m gonna fucking strangle both of you so I can get a goddamn moment’s peace without your horny fuckin’ bullshit. Have fun.”

“Gee, thanks, Johnny,” V muttered, but the rockerboy had already vanished. She put her weapon aside and went to open the door, beaming up at her input on the other side of it. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hey, gorgeous.” There was a light drizzle outside, and beads of water clung to the fur collar of River’s coat. V helped him out of it and closed the door behind him. Then she was on him, kissing him urgently, running her hands up beneath the hem of his shirt, pushing against the unyielding solidity of his muscular form and soaking in the scents of him, musk and sweat and synthetic pine and essential, unmistakable River-ness. He kissed her with equal abandon, gripping the back of her neck and giving her ass a tight squeeze when she pressed herself against him. Finally, he pulled back with a flirtatious chuckle. “So… how’ve you been?”

“River,” V said with all seriousness. “If you ain’t inside me in the next three minutes I might actually fuckin’ die.”

River broke into a wide, wolfish grin. “Sure know how to make a man feel welcome. Strip and get on the bed, then.”

V did not need a second invitation. Her struggle to free herself of clothes was brief and uneventful, and her ass hit the bed so hard she bounced. River, though, was taking his time. He took off his shirt and shoes, but not his jeans, and carried an old backpack over to the bed.

“‘S that?” V asked, curious. 

“Just some gear.” He reached inside the bag and brought out a stack of four flat metal disks, each about the size of a drink coaster. Pressing a button on the side of one caused it to separate from the others and fall into River’s hand. “Magnets,” he said by way of explanation, setting the disk at one corner of the metal cubby that held V’s bed. He pressed the button again to activate it, fixing it in place. “Special kind. They’re strong, but they don’t mess up cyberware. Comes in handy--especially if, say, your output has titanium bones.”

“What--” Before V could react, he’d taken her wrist and pressed the back of it to the magnetic disk. “Shit!” V tugged frantically, then yanked at her arm as hard as she could, but the magnet held fast. It was a disconcerting sensation--nothing appeared to hold her there, but the back of her hand was fastened in place more securely than if she were in shackles.

River had taken advantage of her distraction to position another magnet at the opposite corner of the bed, and then V’s free hand was captured too. She curved her spine, trying to rise, but she had no leverage and the magnets pinned her arms mercilessly in place, leaving her feet scrabbling uselessly at the blankets. Finally, she flopped back to the mattress, bare chest heaving with quick, ragged breaths. River watched her struggles with dark amusement.

“Having fun?”

“Fuck you.” V craned her neck to glare at him, before relenting. “Yeah, a little.”

“Good.” Seeing as she was in no position to fight him now, River grabbed one of her ankles and locked it magnetically to yet another corner of the bed. The other ankle followed, leaving V completely spread-eagle and exposed. Her tech-enhanced muscles tensed and strained against the bondage, but the only thing she gained for it was soreness and exhaustion. Unable to move, unable to fight--the realization that she was completely at River’s mercy began to sink in, and with it came a jolt of arousal and hot shame. 

The man bent over her, running his hands over her helpless body, as if he had nothing better to do and all the time in the world. His fingers twisted her nipple sharply, drawing out a groan, and skated down her ribs, tracing the coils of her snake tattoo. They skimmed over the fresh raised starburst of a scar that had been, until recently, a bullet hole, and caressed her hips, sinking divots into her flanks. “V?”

“Hnn--ah?” It was getting hard to think.

“Safeword, V. You got one?”

She nodded. “Afterlife,” she said hoarsely.

“Tch.” River scoffed. “Merc to your goddamn core.”

“An’ proud of it,” she agreed.

“You mercs are all the same… think you’re tough shit, think you’re above the law.” River’s hand slipped low to unfasten his jeans. V only caught a brief glimpse before his mechanical hand seized her jaw and forced her to look directly up at him. “We’ll fuckin’ see.” His voice was cold and harsh, edged with the same dark, ravenous hunger she could feel welling up from her own deep places. He sounded like a stranger. He sounded _cruel_.

V was so goddamn wet she was dripping onto the sheets.

To her utter relief, River climbed onto the bed between her spread legs. His hard cock teased her entrance, rubbing against her inner lips. V groaned in anguish, thrusting her hips forward. River immediately withdrew. “Ah, now. Be good, or you won’t get what you want….” He ran his length along her slit, coating himself in her juices. Her hips bucked again, and he pulled away.

“How the fuck are you so calm?!” V growled at him, a picture of frustrated desperation.

“No one said _I_ couldn’t masturbate this week,” River said with good humor, sounding a little more like himself. “And I have been… looking forward to this. Picturing you like this, tied open and ready for me…” The hunger was back. “It got me off every day. Twice, this morning.”

“Unfuckingfair,” gasped V, even as the heat of embarrassed pleasure suffused her. 

“Completely unfair,” River agreed gamely. “Just like this.” And then he was plunging into her, filling her completely, and her inner walls clamped tight down on him, sending a pulse of pure ecstasy through her as she felt the hardness and the heat of him. Before she could draw a second stroke out of him, though, he was gone, leaving her empty and yearning.

V lost her fucking mind, throwing herself against the restraints so hard she dimly thought she might dislocate something. “Fuckin’ fuck me already, you fuckin’ bastard!” she snarled at him.

“Poetic,” River commented, utterly unphased by V’s display. He actually started to refasten his jeans, which naturally inspired V to new depths of frenzy. He watched her thrash and howl, letting her wear herself out fighting the restraints. By the time she went limp, her arms and legs were trembling, and her whole body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. “You done?”

“Motherfucker…” she hissed, but was too tired to put much venom behind it. “ _Please_. I know you want this as bad as I do.”

“I already told you.” River mounted her, slamming his metal hand into the pillow by her head. His crotch ground into hers, but his was rough denim and the scratch of the metal zipper against her sensitive, raw flesh. “You won’t get what you _want_ ,” His hips delivered a punishing thrust, and V whimpered. “Unless you can be _good_.” Another harsh thrust and a deep grind to punctuate his point. “Simple enough, merc?”

V met River’s gaze. His eye was narrowed and cold, and she knew hers were wide and wild. She nodded. The corner of his mouth drew up in a scornful smile. “Good girl.” He moved down her body, pausing at her breast to swirl his tongue over her nipple before catching it between his teeth and tugging, eliciting another whimper of mixed pain and arousal from her. Further down, and he settled with his head between her thighs, his hot breath tickling the dripping lips of her cunt. “Hold still now. And tell me when you’re ready to come,” he murmured, and set to work.

The ‘hold still’ was the tricky part. Feeling River’s mouth on her, his tongue slipping between her folds, probing and teasing her, lapping at her clit--the sweetness of _finally_ being touched there and the agony of it not being _more_ was driving her out of her mind. Her hips wanted to buck and flail, to press herself against him and ride his face until she came--but she forced herself to be still, aching with the effort. A shaky gasp and quick, uneven breaths rocked her frame. “Good girl,” River said again, and the note of proud approval in his tone almost broke V on its own. “How much can you take, hm?” 

It was different then, slower but harder. River’s tongue focused on her clit, curling around it, flicking over it, stroking it in just the way he knew she liked. With gentle suction and a hint of teeth, he drew the sensitive nub into his mouth, a growl rumbling in his throat that sent vibrations straight into V’s trembling core. “Nnnh--!” she moaned urgently, head tipping back and toes starting to curl. “Close--!”

River stopped abruptly and pulled back. V let out a strangled half-sob of protest, but he shushed her soothingly, running his hands down her sides. “Shh… just breathe, now…” he said with soft, sadistic amusement, the warm steadiness of his ‘ganic hand resting on her lower abdomen. “You’ll come when I tell you to. Not before.”

“You’re… fuckin’... _evil_ ,” V panted. Actual tears of frustration were gathering at the corners of her eyes. 

“Careful what you say, merc.” River spoke, and V could hear the predatory smirk in his voice. “I might just have to prove you right.” Both of his hands closed on her inner thighs, hard enough to bruise, pushing her already strained legs even further apart. “Remember the rule.” His mouth found her cunt again, and V sank back into a tortured kind of bliss.

Pressure was building in her with each flick of River’s tongue. She wasn’t aware of the soreness in her abused limbs anymore, or any lingering pain from her previous injuries. All she could feel was the throbbing _need_ between her thighs, and the wavering crest of release and promised pleasure River was driving her inexorably towards. Her eyes started to roll back of their own accord, and she snapped them open to fix them on the ceiling, desperate to find something there-- _anywhere_ \--that would distract her enough to hold out a little longer. It didn't work. Her eyelashes fluttered. “I can’t--”

He stopped then, but it was too late. The tidal force of her orgasm pulled her under, crashing around her ears, drowning out any thought or semblance of control. She let out a keening moan, her hips thrusting furiously against the vice grip River had used to pin her legs down. Suddenly he released her, and she was free to writhe--but only for a moment, before his mechanical hand closed around her throat.

“Couldn’t manage one simple fucking rule, could you, whore?” River said, with casual cruelty. His hold on her neck tightened, and V choked. “Hope you enjoyed yourself. You won’t enjoy what happens next.” V couldn’t breathe at all. Small orgasmic aftershocks were rippling through her, and her heart was battering itself against the cage of her ribs. 

Finally he released her throat, with a promise full of quiet menace. “If you won’t ask me to let you come… then you’ll beg me to let you _stop_.”

V barely had time to fill her lungs before River was on her again, his mouth assaulting the slick, swollen flesh of her vulva. She whimpered and tried to pull away, to curl inwards and protect herself, but the unyielding magnetic restraints made that impossible. It was too much; she was too sensitive in the wake of her orgasm, but he wouldn’t let up, sucking and nibbling at her clit until the pain began to morph into pleasure again, and her cries of protest stuttered into gasps and hungry moans. River took the cue to switch back to long, glorious strokes of his tongue, interspersed with the little growls and masculine groans that V could feel buzzing inside her, making her quiver and curl her toes. The pressure was building again; her thighs were trembling and fireworks were going off at the edges of her consciousness. “Can I--” she tried to ask, voice hoarse and thready with need, but River just hummed a deep note into her and quickly, firmly, flicked his tongue over her clit, shoving her unceremoniously off the precipice of another climax.

When the hazy curtain of hedonistic ecstasy began to lift from V’s mind, the sensitivity returned, worse than before. She twisted her hips in an attempt to buck River off, but he bit her inner lips harshly, sending a flare of white hot agony through her that shorted out her ability to resist. V flung her head back and sank her teeth into her lower lip, trying to feel something, anywhere but the vicious, single-minded attack on her cunt. River let up for a moment, a gentle, sweet caress of his tongue and V almost let her guard down, but then he was grinding his mouth into her pubic bone and she was screaming. “St-stop!” He didn’t stop. His tongue swirled hard against her, back and forth, and there was no escape, the man was like a _machine_ \--

And she was coming again, though it hurt this time. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t coach herself through the pain, it was all _too much_ and it wouldn’t _stop_. Tear tracks streamed down the side of her face; her body was convulsing outside her control, and even the shock of another sudden bite from River couldn’t still her. V heard her own voice--sobbing and pleading, she sounded _broken_ \--and that triggered another climax, or maybe deepened the first--V couldn’t tell anymore, hills and valleys of pain and pleasure and _pain_ rolling into her one after the other until she forgot she had any existence but this howling whirlwind of desire and suffering.


	6. R) Five to One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psst... it's a double update! Check if you've read chapter 5! See previous chapter for **content warnings**.
> 
> Special thanks go out to my dear friend who very helpfully let me ask him a bunch of questions about how orgasms and blowjobs feel if you have a dick. You are the actual best; thank you for putting up with me. <3 
> 
> POV character thoughts are _italicized_.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> -KB

### River

“Please…” 

The woman’s voice was a breathless, mindless, desperate rasp, and River was hard as a goddamn chrome-plated boulder. He sat up, relinquishing his grip on V’s thighs, admiring the fingerprint bruises that were starting to show on her dark skin. Pain for its own sake wasn’t his thing, but, well… if V had a little reminder, for a few days, of what it was like to be held down and _claimed_ by him, he wouldn’t exactly mind.

“Glad you learned some manners, merc,” he teased her as he stood and scrubbed her juices off his chin with a nearby towel. When he stripped off his jeans, his erection pressed against his stomach, smearing precum along his lower abs. “Time for your reward.”

A cute little divot appeared between V’s brows, like she was trying to work out what he meant. His output was a mess, her eyes wide and blank, face streaked with spit and tears, shivering and flinching like every little breath of air on her skin burned her. She didn’t try to pull away from him when he took her wrist and deactivated the magnet, though--in fact, as he freed them one at a time, all her limbs remained loose and heavy, staying exactly where he put them.

_Like a rag doll._

“Look at you…” River marveled, slipping his arms beneath V’s body to flip her on her stomach. There was a wet slap as she landed--her arousal and her sweat had completely soaked through the sheets. River crouched beside the bed, running his fingers through her hair, before gripping it harshly and using it to steer V to meet his gaze. “I could do anything to you right now, and you’d thank me for it, wouldn’t you?” A little, quavering moan was the merc’s reply--protest or approval, River didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. He let her head fall back to the pillows and went to take his place behind her.

When he set the first magnet on her ankle again, she started trying to push herself up. River leveled a stinging slap across her rear, and she froze. “Be good,” he saidly idly, fiddling with the magnet settings. V groaned, and River thought he caught a muffled “fuck you” from around a pillow. River grinned as his cock twitched in response. Helpless was good. Fighting back was even better. 

He finally got the magnets to align properly, and wasted no time locking V down. One magnet went on each side of each ankle, and with the settings adjusted correctly, all four magnets would hold their position in space relative to each other. Which meant that, while V was no longer tied down to the bed frame, the magnets would keep her ankles apart at the distance River set, no closer and no further--like an invisible spreader bar. By way of testing his work, River reached out to press a finger to V’s extremely thoroughly abused clit.

Her reaction was immediate and violent; she surged upright, pulling her knees beneath her in a struggle to get her legs closed. River watched the muscles of her thighs and calves strain uselessly against the forces of magnetism with a quiet hum of satisfaction. “That’ll do.”

He knelt behind her and seized her hips, pulling her back into him so she could feel the length of him pressing against her ass. She shivered, halfway twisting around so she could try to look at him over her shoulder. The mix of fear and need in her eyes made River’s balls ache. “Remember the rule,” he reminded her, his voice husky and thick with lust. As she nodded, River leaned back and sank himself inside her.

A sweet, pleading whimper tore out of V, and River saw her shoulders shake and her hands twist into the sheets. _Make that sound again_ , he wanted to order her, but the next moment he was too overwhelmed with his own sensations to do more than groan. V was tight, the swollen, puffy pink flesh of her vulva gripping the base of River’s cock, her inner walls flexing and pulsing against his shaft like they were trying to push him out. He leaned over her form and growled, keeping her hips locked to his, filling her inch by inevitable inch. Inside she was almost _too_ wet, the head of River’s cock sliding against her walls without much stimulation. _That, we can fix._

River drew himself slowly out, then pushed back in, feeling her muscles dance and settle around him. With smooth, long strokes he fucked her, letting her breathing deepen and her cunt stretch to accommodate him fully. Then, when her hips were pushing into him of their own accord, asking to take him deeper, he smirked. With practiced ease, he twisted his frame to brace one of his feet against the bed. At the same time, he hauled V’s ass higher, dragging her torso along with it ‘til she was almost folded in half. While she was trying to crawl away, River caught her and held her down by the back of the neck. He wasn’t trying to choke her, just to pin her in place, but she went very still all the same. 

“This’ll hurt less if you relax,” he said, as if indifferent to her suffering either way. He saw her shoulderblades rise in a full breath, and her cunt’s grip on his cock went just a little slack. River grinned savagely. “Good girl.”

He started to fuck her again. The first few strokes were slow, to set his rhythm, and then the pace began to speed up. Each thrust landed faster and harder than the last, his balls slapping against her leg. He drove himself into the front of her inner walls over and over, the changed angle and the heightened ferocity providing the stimulation he’d been missing. River was losing himself to pleasure, using V’s body like a toy, and every one of her futile struggles and breathless gasps made it all the sweeter for him.

“Look at you,” he murmured for the second time that evening, yanking her upright so her back was pressed to his chest. Dizzy with the abrupt altitude change, she clung to him for support out of instinct, and River chuckled darkly. His cybernetic eye sparked to life, holding V’s clouded gaze, and flaring bright blue as he sent her a feed of his current view. He lingered on her face, the dazed expression and streaks of tears, and traveled down her body, watching the way her chest heaved to catch her breath and made her small, supple tits bounce and jiggle. Then further down her skin, gleaming with sweat, to the slickness coating her bruised thighs and the way her hips trembled every time River twitched his. He started to pump her gently again, watching her cunt flex and flutter around him as he filled her, and knew she was watching too.

“Ffffuck, River…” V hissed, and River felt the tremor in her thighs that he was beginning to recognize as a sign of her oncoming orgasm. “Can I come? _Please?_ ”

“Hmm…” River pretended to consider his options, caressing V’s neck. She flinched (and tightened down on his cock in the process), even though he didn’t grab her this time. “Not a bad ask.” He bit down lightly on the curve of her shoulder, nibbling his way up to her ear, before growling deep in his throat, “But I think a cheap merc _whore_ like you should call me _sir_.” Without waiting for her reaction, he shoved her down hard on the bed and started thrusting again.

This time he let himself loose. With speed and force comparable to a jackhammer, he slammed into her depths again and again. River’s jaw went tight and every muscle strained, his entire, heavy frame crashing into the smaller woman in his reckless drive for orgasm. Her cunt pulsed frantically around him, all _heat_ and _need_ , like she couldn’t contain him, like she was going to--

Dimly, River became aware that the pleading, pained whimpers and cries he could hear were forming themselves into gasping sentence fragments.

“--pleasecanIcomesir _please_ letme--”

“Now,” River snarled, and V sobbed in relief, sinking beneath the relentless tide of her orgasm. Her inner walls squeezed him tighter than ever in fierce, urgent throttles, strong enough that he had to slow down or risk seriously hurting one or both of them. Not that he minded. He fucked V into the sheets while she rode out her climax.

When she was still again, give or take a few tremulous aftershocks, River rolled off of her, though he paused to watch the glistening liquid dribble out of her when he pulled his cock free. _Damn…_

He was exhausted, and still way too fucking hard. His strategic desensitization via masturbation had both worked flawlessly (V was fucked senseless and lying in a puddle of her own cum) and backfired spectacularly (getting himself off was proving to be more difficult than he had anticipated). With a heavy sigh, he flopped onto his back beside V, resting his head on one folded arm. His ‘ganic hand went to his cock, idly pumping up and down the slick shaft, feeling the muscles in his flanks flex automatically to drive him into his own grip. He could squeeze himself harder than V’s cunt could, but his hand wasn’t nearly so _warm_ , and the _sounds_ she made…

The merc in question seemed to be recovering at a steady clip. When River glanced over at her, her eyes were open, and she was watching him with keen interest. He almost laughed at the expression on her face. “Christ, you’re a thirsty little fuckdoll, aren’t you?”

V winced. “Afterlife,” she whispered. Instantly, River let go of himself, all amusement gone as he turned to face her, ready to ask what she needed. She forestalled his concern, though, putting a hand on his chest. “It’s okay; I want to keep going. Just, please… don’t call me a doll.”

River’s curiosity was piqued, but he simply nodded. “Understood.” No reason to ruin the mood, if she still wanted more… his hand slipped to his cock again. “What about other names? Toy? Pet?”

“Both good.”

“Bitch? Cunt?”

“Mmhm…” V let out a sigh of pleasure.

River’s hand was moving faster now. “So if I called you a brainless little slut... or a needy _fuck_ hole, whose only purpose is to be _used_ and filled with my cum… that’d turn you on?”

V shuddered with desire. “Yes, _sir_.”

River grinned, cold and feral. “Get over here and suck my cock.”

After a quick repositioning, her lips wrapped around him eagerly, taking him deep into her hot mouth and running her tongue along the underside of his shaft. River bit back a groan that became a rumble in his chest. _God, that feels so fuckin’ good._ V bobbed along his length, coating him in her spit and licking up the juices her cunt had left on him. She pressed her lips to the twitching tip of his head and sank down, swallowing him whole, before pulling back to tease his head again, swirling her tongue over and around it. One of her hands wrapped around the base of his shaft, pumping in time with her mouth, while the other curled under his balls, taking them in her grip with gentle squeezes and subtle tugs.

River let her play with him, stroking her hair with his free hand, occasional giving it a little pull when he sensed teeth. V was careful, though, and thorough. This was clearly not the merc’s first blowjob rodeo.

She was a little too _quiet_ for River’s taste, though.

Gradually increasing the pressure on the back of her head, he nudged her down further, easing the head of his cock past the tight ring of muscles in her throat. She started to pull away, but River moved his hand to the back of her neck and let out a soft warning growl. She went still, and whimpered, and oh, he felt _that_ , he wanted more of _that_. Slowly, holding her head firmly in place, he started to fuck her throat.

It was warm and wet, but drier and tighter than her cunt, and River savored the intense sensations of a more hostile environment. Once, her teeth scraped against him like they were about to close--but he gripped the back of her neck with bruising force, and she thought better of it. She was fighting him, though, struggling to keep her breath as he forced himself further down her throat. 

“Such a good girl,” he drawled, and the violent, indignant (though muffled) noise of protest that came from V was almost enough to tip him over the edge. “My mistake,” he said drily. In a flash his other hand came down, and he seized her skull in his grasp. Yanking her off his cock, he watched her cough and sputter, spit running down her chin as she tried to get a full breath, but he wouldn’t let her. Holding her pleading, tear-stricken gaze with his own as steadily as he held her head in place, he shoved his cock down her throat, past her useless gag reflex, punctuating his words with brutal, punishing strokes. “Such a--filthy--fuckin’--whore!” 

Finally his release came, his balls emptying themselves to spend his thick seed deep in V’s clenching, writhing form. River groaned, his short nails digging into the sides of V’s face, his hips continuing to pump even as he softened and his grip went slack. 

“Ah…” River took a deep breath and stretched out, luxuriating for a minute in a delicious sense of full-body satisfaction. V had managed to free herself and was now coughing and retching somewhere in the vicinity of his waist. “Need some water?” he asked softly, no trace of malice or sadism left.

He felt V’s fervent nod bump into his ribs, and figured she probably wasn’t quite up to making words yet. Understandable side effect of the harsh throatfucking he’d just given her. He felt his cock twitch in appreciation at the not-so-distant memory. _Fuckin’ hell! Stay down, we’re done! You’re done, I’m done, she’s done, we’re all done!_ River hastily got out of bed and put his boxers back on, before his goddamn gonk dick could demand an encore round.

Grabbing cold cans of water from the minifridge on V’s desk, he handed a can to the merc and opened one for himself, gulping half of it down almost immediately. V was sipping hers more slowly. River approached her and deactivated the magnets that still held her ankles apart at a fixed distance. She raised her can to him like a salute in gratitude. River offered V his hand. “C’mon. Off the bed, neither of us are sleeping on it in that state.”

After resettling his output on the couch, River stripped the bed of the twisted mess of soaked sheets. There was still a huge, wet stain on the bare mattress. River daubed it with the towel he’d used to clean himself earlier, absorbing as much as he could, but in the end he opted to simply flip the whole mattress upside down. There were fresh sheets in the laundry basket that River swapped for the ones they’d used.

Next step was to get V and himself into the shower. She needed help walking there (River silently congratulated himself). No shenanigans this time; they were both worn out and sticky, and the shower rinsed away one of those problems.

The steam in the air helped V start to get her voice back. “Fuck,” she said, sounding like she smoked a pack a day. “That was…” River let her formulate her thoughts without interruption, though he very desperately wanted to know how she was going to end that sentence. She didn’t, though.

River picked up the thread as they got ready for bed; clean boxers for him (he’d brought a change of clothes this time), t-shirt and panties for her. “So… I don’t need a full dossier here, but a few bullet points would be helpful.” He laid down on the bed and waited for V to finish brushing her teeth. “Tonight--fun? Awful? So-so? Somethin’ you’d like to do again? Or are ya planning to toss my gonk ass out the window first chance you get?” He was teasing, but V’s continued silence was making him nervous.

V spit out her toothpaste in the sink and stalked towards him. River’s worries eased as she slipped onto the bed and straddled his prone form, graceful as a cat.

“Tonight,” she said, framing his face in her hands, “was fuckin’ _wonderful_ , River.” He couldn’t help the wide smile that broke over his face, pressing his cheeks into V’s palms. “I ain’t been that worked up in, oh, fuckin’ never?” she continued, bending over him to plant kisses along his stubbled jaw. “Mm… fuck. You’re just… too damn perfect.”

“Could say the same about you,” River mumbled, peering up at his lover in the darkness. “You really enjoyed that? The way I treated you, the… things I said?” Guilt was starting to creep in--he’d pushed her hard--harder than he should’ve considering it was their first time trying anything like that. And the way he’d acted… cold, cruel, callous... it had been an act, but it had been born out of his own real desires, and that was a deeply uncomfortable thought to consider.

_She called me a good man…_

V’s bright peal of laughter broke through the swirling clouds before they could fully form. “ _Yes_. You gonk. ‘Course I enjoyed it! Had the safeword, didn’t I? If I was havin’ less than the time of my life, I woulda used it straight away.” Her words reassured him, and River let himself relax, enjoying the warm weight of her pressing him further into the mattress. “Got some bad news for you, though,” V continued.

“Oh?”

“You ain’t done.”

River’s eyebrows flew up. “V--are you fuckin’ serious?!”

“As sin,” she said sternly. “Silverhand threatened to off both of us if you didn’t make me, an’ here I quote, ‘come my fuckin’ brains out at least six times before mornin’.' And by my most generous estimate, you’re at five.”

“Five to one, V! Heavily in your favor!”

The merc shrugged airily. “Take it up with Silverhand.”

River groaned theatrically. “And why, pray tell, does Robert John Linder a.k.a. Johnny Silverhand, legendary rock guitarist of the cult favorite band Samurai, born who knows the fuck when and died August 20th 2023, may he rest in peace, want me to get you off so bad?”

“Might have somethin’ to do with you tellin’ your output not to masturbate and leavin’ her a horny fuckin’ mess for a week, and him sharin’ a brain with that output,” V mused, tapping her chin in thought. “All pure speculation, though. Who knows why that asshole does anything?”

In spite of his exhaustion, River had to chuckle. “Fine. Wouldn’t wanna disappoint good ol’ Johnny. You’re gonna need to come up here and sit on my face, though, cuz I’m beat all to hell.”

V smirked like a demon. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“First things first,” he murmured, and with a light touch of his hand, drew her down to him for a kiss. She sighed, and sank deeper into him, the boundaries between them dissolving sweetly into shared heat and breath.


	7. V) Let's Get Burritos!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to everyone who commented on the last two chapters. <3 It was incredibly affirming and validating for me to read what you wrote, both in the 'people like what I made!' sense and the 'I'm not the only one who thinks stuff like this is super hot!' way. You're all wonderful and I am just so, so pleased to be able to share this story with you!
> 
> Now in potentially disappointing news: that's currently it for the smut. There will likely be a bit more towards the end of the story, but I haven't written it yet and it would be at least 15 chapters away. If you want to bow out here, I understand, and thanks for reading as far as you did! For the rest of you: we're gonna start revving up that plot that I mentioned this story definitely has. Uhh... next chapter, though. This one is just burritos.
> 
> (also if you check River's laptop in game you can see he was looking up jambalaya recipes and I find that utterly delightful)
> 
> Chapter POV character thoughts are _italicized_. V's mental speech to Johnny is _'italicized and in single quotes.'_
> 
> -KB

### V

“I’ll be damned. Gonk actually did it.” Silverhand sounded impressed despite himself. The engram was standing too close to the bed when V woke up, scowling down at the pair of lovers. “Six fuckin’ times.”

 _‘Seven.’_ V yawned as she sat up, scratching her neck. _‘He’s a keeper.’_ River was still dead asleep, the poor guy. V was careful not to disturb him as she disentangled herself from the sheets, and not careful at all as she walked straight through Silverhand towards the coffeemaker. His pixels blurred, and he vanished and reappeared next to V again, scowling.

“Maybe, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

V snorted in amusement as she switched the coffee machine on. _‘Multiple orgasms?’_

“Yeah.” Johnny flickered back to the bed, folding his arms and cocking his hips to the side as he surveyed the slumbering River. “Too bad about the perpetual sad-puppy eyes though. And the tiny--”

_‘Johnny.’_

“--nipples. What? They’re tiny. Like goddamn bee stings on those ridiculous man tits.” The rockerboy grinned triumphantly as V snorted again. “Skull’s a weird shape, too. Lumpy, like a cauliflower. Some guys just can’t pull off a shaved head.”

 _‘Sure you’re not just jealous of him cuz you’ve never made a girl come in your life?’_ V poked around in her cabinets, searching for a clean mug.

“How fuckin’ dare you,” Johnny drawled. He appeared next to V again, perched on the edge of her computer desk as he watched her fruitless search. “Check under the sink in the bathroom,” he commented idly. “Anyway, you can’t go around sayin’ shit like that, V. I got a reputation to maintain.”

“Why the fuck would I have put ‘em there…?” V muttered aloud to herself, but Silverhand was right. The mugs were under the sink.

“Dunno. Losin’ your mind, I guess.”

 _‘Hah fuckin’ hah.’_ V rolled her eyes and popped a pod of instant coffee powder into the machine, setting a mug under the spout where the caffeinated elixir would eventually trickle out. _‘This rep of yours is bullshit anyway. How many girls have you really gotten off? Really, for sure, for real? Name one. I’ll wait.’_

“...”

_‘Woooow, Silverhand.’_

“You had to fuckin’ make it about names, didn’t ya?” Johnny grumbled. 

_‘Aw, pobrecito.’_ V clutched a hand to her heart in a display of melodramatic sympathy. The mug was filling, and the smell of coffee was already making her feel more alive and aware. _‘Tell you what, I’ll make it easier for you. Name a girl you’ve fucked.’_

“A--”

_‘Besides Alt or Rogue.’_

“...”

 _‘Uh-huh.’_ V took a sip of coffee, peering slyly at Silverhand over the rim. The liquid was lukewarm and full of floating grounds; she really needed to replace her machine. _‘Johnny Silverhand, legendary playboy of Night City, everybody.’_

“Hey now, I’ve fucked plenty. Angela, Pamela, Sandra--”

 _‘Johnny.’_ V sat her mug down on the desk and met the engram’s gaze intently. _‘Those aren’t the names of girls you hooked up with. Those are the lyrics to Lou Bega’s 1999 hit, ‘Mambo no. 5’, which I am intimately familiar with because YOU fucked up the sound system in my Galena and now that is ALL IT WILL PLAY.’_

Silverhand was, as always, completely immune to V’s scorn. “Car’s a piece of shit anyway. Why don’t you take my wheels around town?”

_‘Because A), it’s a fuckin’ Porsche and I got better things to do than shootouts with carjackers every three blocks, B) you get goddamn road rage whenever some gonk so much as breathes on it, and C) it fuckin’ handles like it’s drivin’ on ice. I need some grip in my wheels, lets me feel the road.’_

“Look at you, knowin’ your alphabet and everything. They teach you that in nomad school, ‘long with drivin’ like a myopic tortoise?”

V scoffed. _‘Not my fault the city’s got no room to get up speed. Lemme out in the Badlands, though, and I’ll leave ‘em eatin’ dust.’_ The familiar argument was reinvigorating to her, which was just as well, since the coffee was a disappointment. She tossed what was left of it down the sink.

“You know what doesn’t _need_ room to get up speed, ‘cuz it goes from 0 to 60 in two and a half seconds? A fuckin’ Porsche.” Silverhand smirked at her, before phasing out of existence and back in on the other side of the room, sprawled out on the couch. Rain was beating against the thick plastic of the window, and the sky was gray and heavy with clouds. V felt colder just looking at it.

River was starting to wake up. V ambled over to sit on the bed beside him, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Mornin’, handsome.”

“Ughh, fuckin’ gag me,” Johnny muttered from the peanut gallery.

_‘Don’t I fuckin’ wish.’_

River yawned widely and brought his hand up to scrub the sleep out of his ‘ganic eye. “Mornin’, V… you, ah, always up this early?”

V had to think about it for a moment. “Yeah... guess so. Didn’t used to be, but since the biochip an’ everything… just can’t make myself stay still for too long, y’know?” She didn’t mention that lying in bed and doing nothing, trying to fall back asleep, while thinking about the clock counting down in her head and how she could _feel_ herself dying, was pretty damn close to torture.

River seemed to get the message anyway. He didn’t push, just smiled at her and sat halfway up, the silver feather necklace he always wore skittering sideways across his pectorals. “All right. So what’s on the docket today for Night City’s best merc?”

“Best merc with the best ass, an’ don’t you forget it.” V grinned, playfully flicking his necklace before she stood up. 

“Not likely to, what with the close, personal friendship your ass and my face are developing.” River rubbed his stubbled jaw, working it back and forth like it was sore. Which it probably was. “Do I smell coffee?”

“What you smell is failure. We’re goin’ out for proper coffee. And burritos,” V said firmly, grabbing River’s jeans from the floor and tossing them at him. “Get dressed.”

Catching the jeans before they smacked him in the face, River glanced pointedly at the SCSM near V’s desk. “Burritos, as in that thing you have a literal vending machine full of, right over there?”

“Not _those_ burritos,” V said condescendingly, as if she were explaining something to a child she didn’t particularly like. “Different burritos. Better ones.” She was going through her closet, pulling out the clothes she wanted and tossing them on the couch, next to Silverhand’s lazing, digital form.

“How different could they be? It’s a burrito. Protein, rice, beans, maybe some cheese--wrap it in a tortilla and you’re done. Kinda hard to fuck up.” River argued with her, but at least he was getting dressed.

“Look who’s a fuckin’ four-star chef now, Mr. Jambalaya-is-my-specialty-but-actually-I-looked-up-the-recipe-on-the-net-cuz-I-can’t-cook-for-shit.”

“In my defense, I was trying to impress you,” said River, completely shameless. He sat down to pull his boots on and shot V a disarming grin. “‘Sides, it was good enough to get me laid, yeah?”

“Oh yeah. That was definitely the jambalaya, and nothin’ to do with your personality or your looks,” V agreed amiably. She finished getting dressed, and keyed in the code to open the door to her arms stash. Guns of every shape and caliber were set carefully into foam niches covering the walls, and neatly labeled crates of ammo were stacked in the corner. She considered which piece to bring while River came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the side of her neck.

“Good to know I’ll always have my culinary skills to fall back on, should my other charms fail me,” River mused, his stubble tickling V’s ear.

The merc chuckled and picked up a Chao. The gun’s slim profile and high ammo efficiency fit what she needed for the day, and she slid it into a concealed holster under her jacket. “C’mon then, Prince Charmin’. Let’s get burritos.”

They took River’s Thorton, because V didn’t want to risk losing her input by forcing the man to endure a car ride with ‘Mambo no. 5’ stuck in an endless loop. She gave him directions, watching the city go by in a gray haze of fog and swishing windshield wipers. The streets were emptier than usual, due to the rain, but there were still people out, taking shelter beneath expensive umbrellas edged with neon... or huddling under bridges.

 _Welcome to Night City._ Growing up with the nomads, V and everyone she knew was poor as shit. Rain could be a lifesaver or a disaster, but that was up to chance and cleverness, not how many eddies you had in the bank. Not that she’d ever even heard of a bank ‘til she came to the city.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of their destination--a rundown fast food joint out in Rancho Coronado.

“Captain Caliente? Really, V?” River asked as he backed the truck into a parking spot. “I’ve had their burritos before; they’re nothing special.”

“It’s a franchise, River,” V insisted, undeterred by his skepticism. “Means they ain’t all owned by the same people. Some of ‘em do shit better than others.”

“I know what a franchise is,” River grumbled good-naturedly, but yielded the floor to his output’s optimism. They dashed through the rain together, and River pushed open the heavy front door and held it for V before following her inside.

V had a bounce in her step and a bright smile on her face as she entered. She drew in a deep breath, letting the scents of frying oil and bubbling nacho cheese substitute drive the chill from her bones. “Mornin’, Señora Chin!” she said to the unsmiling middle-aged Asian woman at the register.

“ _Señora_ Chin?” River muttered quizzically.

“Yeah, she hates me,” V informed him, with mischievous glee. “Everybody else is allowed to call her Eleanor.” Sauntering up to the counter, she placed an order for her usual, before glancing back at River. “Better make it two of everything, since I don’t trust this gonk to order right. And keep the coffee comin'.”

“Hey, ‘long as you’re buying.” River stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, looking mildly affronted but mostly amused.

V paid, and grabbed River’s arm to lead him to a table. The place was pretty empty. Outside the large glass windows, there was a steady line of cars passing by the building to order drive-through, but not many people braved the rain to eat in the dining room. Ceiling fans spun lazy circles among a few buzzing flies, and the black and white tile floor was scuffed and streaked with dried cleaning fluid. A radio set near the register was quietly playing some schmaltzy station counting down the top hits of the 2040’s. V and River took a corner booth.

“Is this our first date?” River asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“What?”

“Y’know…” The big man seemed suddenly embarrassed, hiking up his shoulders in a shrug. “Going out to a place with someone to spend time together, in a romantic fashion. We haven’t done that yet, have we?”

V thought back over the few months that had passed since they met. Other than a couple friendly drinks, they hadn’t spent much time around each other outside of some job or other, before tumbling into bed together for the first time after a dinner with his family. Since then, they’d been meeting exclusively at his place or hers. 

“Guess not,” V said, setting her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her palm as she gazed at the man across from her. “So what kind of thing are we supposed to talk about on this date, given that it’s our first?” The corner of her mouth pulled up into a playful smirk.

“Well, I could tell you all about how I’m unemployed and live with my sister,” River offered, with a crooked grin.

“Hot.” V batted her eyelashes at him like she was fascinated. “Go on.”

“Maybe then I could list all the ways I’m damaged goods, share my childhood traumas, and go into some lurid details of my sexual fantasies.” River ticked off the options on his fingers. “Then, if you’re still around for dessert, I could pop out this cybernetic eye and show you what part of the inside of my skull looks like.”

“Bet you get aallll the panties droppin’ with that move.”

“What can I say, I’m a catch,” River said modestly, flicking imaginary dust off the collar of his coat. The coffee arrived then, delivered by a younger waitress who seemed to be in both a much better mood and a much bigger hurry than Señora Chin. River thanked her, and took a sip of the hot beverage. 

V was watching him intently. “Well?”

“Coffee’s good.”

The merc snorted derisively, leaning back and draping one arm over the back of the booth. “‘Coffee’s good’, he says. That’s ‘ganic shit, River! From Ecuador.”

River looked at the bright orange paper cup in his hand, steam curling through the hole in the plastic lid. “Didn’t realize Captain Caliente had that kind of hookup.”

“They do when Kerry Eurodyne bankrolls ‘em. This is his favorite spot after a gig, so he makes sure they always have the good shit on deck.”

“Kerry Eurodyne, huh?” River said mildly. “That how you found this place? Screamsheets?”

“Came here with him, once.” V picked up her own coffee and took a drink. “Friend of Johnny’s.”

“So--kind of an asshole, then?”

V grinned. “Yeah, that’s literally what I just said.”

River almost snorted coffee through his nose, coughing as he recovered. “Christ, V. You gotta warn a man before you try to drown him like that.” He thumped on his chest. His voice was hoarse, but his eye was glinting with amusement.

“Nothin’ in the merc rulebook about warnings,” V teased, still grinning. “Must be a cop thing.”

“Merc rulebook probably fits on a postage stamp,” River fired back.

“Yeah, it’s pretty much just 1) don’t fuck over your fixer, 2) get the eddies up front, and 3) if you die, make it look fuckin’ spectacular.” V took a long sip before adding, “Revised edition, circa 2077.”

“Easy to remember, at least.”

“Gotta be. Most mercs are gonks.”

River snorted again, but thankfully without inhaling his drink this time. “Harsh, V.”

“I’m serious. All you need to be a merc is a gun and the willingness to fuck your own morals in the ass if the pay’s right. And the gun’s optional.” V pointed at herself. “Case in point.”

“This first date thing is going really well,” River mused. “But tell me more about your terrible job and intrinsic character flaws; I’m intrigued.”

V spread her hands out. “Buddy, if you think that’s good, wait ‘til you hear how I’m dyin’ of an incurable brain disorder and how every time we fuck, a washed-up, mass-murdering rockerboy with an ass tattoo will critique your performance.”

“Every time, huh?” River scratched his jaw thoughtfully. “What’s the ass tattoo of?”

“I dunno. Never seen his ass.” V shrugged offhandedly. “But he assures me he has one.”

“Dunno if I’d feel comfortable, y’know, locking down what we have, while the ass tattoo of the digital ghost in my output’s head remains a mystery. Seems kinda crucial.”

“Fair. Hope we can stay friends, though.”

“That depends very much on the quality of this burrito you dragged me all the way out here for. At six in the morning. In the rain.” Food was arriving, and it smelled _good_. V felt her stomach clench in anticipation.

“Trust me, handsome. It’s worth it.”


	8. V) Small-Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> River's relationship history here is all stuff I made up to explain some gaps I felt the game left. Allie is not a canon character.
> 
>  **Content warning:** loved one with a substance abuse problem.
> 
> If you're a fan of either ominous foreshadowing or using the word 'fuck' so much it becomes entirely meaningless, boy do I have the chapter for you!
> 
> -KB

### V

After they ate, they talked more. River grudgingly admitted he was in the presence of a superior burrito; V crowed and was insufferable in her triumph. The rain kept pouring down outside, getting worse as the morning wore on. 

“So… another great topic for a first date. Exes.” V raised her eyebrows at River as she took a sip of coffee. “Got anything juicy?”

River rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the table. “Hah… not really.”

V’s eyebrows went up further. “Wow, you are really gonna have to work harder than that if you wanna lie to me.”

“Not lyin’, just… not a great story.” River shrugged uncomfortably. 

“ _A_ story? Just the one ex, then?” V pressed. “I’m incorrigible, by the way, ‘case you needed the reminder. Never been corriged in my life.”

River’s lips twitched into a brief smile. “All right, fine. Just the one ex, yeah. I mean, I’ve dated more than that, but only one that lasted more’n a few months. Girl named Allie.” He sighed--a little wistfully. “Started as rookies at the precinct together, came up at the same time. Couldn’t stand each other at first. Both too damn competitive, y’know? And stubborn… heh.” The man trailed off, staring out the window like the memories were written in the rain dripping down the glass. “We were fightin’ in the evidence locker one day about some damn stupid thing, then somehow I was kissin’ her and she was pullin’ my shirt off. Fell hard, after that. ‘Ventually we got an apartment, moved in… two years, we were together.”

“What happened?” V asked quietly.

River didn’t answer for a long moment. When he did, he sounded profoundly tired. “She was a good cop, Allie. You know what this town does to good cops.”

V did. “They don’t stay good, or they don’t stay cops.”

River nodded. “Bit of both, with Allie. We saw the same shit, her and me… the whole rotten, stinking underbelly of this beast of a city, and how little we can do… how little the NCPD even _tries_ to do, to help. Me, I took that as my cue to work harder, push myself further… become damn near fanatical about pursuin’ justice. Well... you saw how that turned out for me. Allie, she… she took a different path.”

V waited, but River seemed lost in his thoughts. “What’d she do?” she finally prompted.

“Hm? Oh.” River sighed again. Less wistful this time. “Drugs. Little to take the edge off after a rough day at work, then a little more after a rougher day… but the days were always rough, and I was barely there, throwin’ myself into my cases like they were all that mattered… time I noticed she had a habit, it was too late to do anything about it. She wouldn’t listen to me. Started comin’ into work at the precinct high off her ass. Stealin’ evidence and sellin’ it to pay for more drugs. Got fired ‘fore too long. Then she was just lyin’ around the house for days, those goddamn inhalers scattered all over the place. I wasn’t… kind to her. Didn’t understand.” 

He rested his elbow on the table, shutting his eye and rubbing his temple. “We had this… huge fight. Screaming, cryin’, she threw stuff at me… the works. Next day when I got home, she was gone. ‘Long with everything in the apartment that wasn’t bolted to the floor. Never saw her again. Got no idea where she is now, or if she’s even alive.”

“Oh, River… I’m sorry,” V said. He gave her a sad smile and a shrug, as if it wasn’t a big deal anymore, but there was still something in the man’s expression that worried her. “Ain’t your fault, what happened. You know that, right?”

River shook his head slightly, though it wasn’t totally clear which part he was denying. “Maybe not, but I sure didn’t help matters. This temper of mine, it’s… it can be a problem.”

“Only when it’s aimed at folks who don’t deserve it,” V said. “And you know more now about how to tell who that is than you did then.”

“...yeah. Guess I’ve learned a thing or two since. When I found out Randy was usin’... wasn’t thrilled, lemme tell ya. But I kept it together. Had to--couldn’t live with myself if I lost him the way I lost her.” He met V’s gaze and said with perfect intensity, “I don’t wanna lose you like that either, V. Don’t let me drive you away.”

V broke eye contact, pleased but embarrassed by his sincerity. “Fuck off, you know I’ve been tryin’ to drive you away since that mornin’ in Joss’s kitchen. If you won’t leave me even with all my shit, I can’t exactly leave you.”

“Sounds kinda unhealthy, V. Codependent, even,” River teased, a bit of a smirk growing on his face.

“Fair. How ‘bout this then?” V took a deep breath and met his eyes again. “I don’t want to leave. And I don’t want you to leave me.”

River’s smirk bloomed into a full-grown, genuine smile. “Better,” he agreed.

V returned the smile. The waitress came by with another order of coffee for them.

“So what’s the deal with Dr. Packard, then? Not gonna lie, when you said you had one ex with a story, I woulda guessed it was her,” V asked when they were alone again.

River paused with his cup halfway to his mouth. “Er… yeah. We hooked up a couple times. But she was… not at all into any of my bullshit, sexy or otherwise.” He grinned ruefully. “I actually met her ‘cuz of Allie… after she left I couldn’t afford the apartment on my own, so I posted on the NCPD internal boards looking for a roommate. Yawen answered. She was an intern at the lab then, just startin’ med school. She moved in and we got to be pretty good friends.”

“Really? ‘Cuz from what I saw at the lab, she was--”

“Not into my bullshit,” River cut in, wincing. “Yeah. That one actually was completely my fault. I was a real piece of work for a long time after Allie. Selfish, stupid. Took my friends for granted. Especially Yawen.”

“Sounds like you and Johnny have a lot in common.”

River winced again. “Oof… V, I know you’re kidding, but... maybe don’t compare me to a guy with a body count in the hundreds of thousands?”

“Sorry.” V frowned, fidgeting with her empty cup. She’d drunk it too fast and now the caffeine was buzzing through her veins like a booster. “I don’t mean to make light, you know. Of what he did. It’s just, with him… I can’t take him too seriously, or I’ll just… go crazy. Havin’ someone like him in my head and not bein’ able to do anything about it.”

“I get it,” said River. “I mean, not that I literally get what it’s like to share a brain with a terrorist. But I get that it’d be hard. Feelin’ kinda… responsible for him, in some way.”

“Exactly,” V said with relief.

“Let’s talk about something else, then.” River took a drink and leaned back casually in his seat. “Your turn for an ex story, anyway.”

“Don’t have any.”

“Exes? Or stories?”

“Exes. Not like you and Allie, anyway. Plenty of terrible hook-up stories, though.” V rolled her eyes. “Theme is mostly, ‘men are gonks who’ll do anythin’ to get their dicks wet but once they do they lose all semblance of common courtesy or self-respect.’”

“Think I’ve heard one or two like that before, somewhere,” River said mildly.

“Popular literary conceit in our neopostmodern era,” V agreed. More coffee arrived, because this place was wonderful and V tipped in cash every time.

“So no boyfriends? Not even--” River cut himself off sharply, but V knew whose name he had been about to say.

“Jackie and I were… close,” she said softly, ignoring the flutter of despair in her chest that the topic of Jackie always set off. “But more like you and Yawen were. Friends who hooked up a few times. Misty’s idea, actually.” V started to grin in spite of her sorrow. “Jackie’s output. Real spiritual type. She said somethin’ about how our ‘vibrational energies’ were so closely aligned we were bound to fuck sooner or later, and she wanted to be there for it.” Oddly, the hollowness in her chest began transmuting to warmth. “Heh… first time was really just me and Misty goin’ at each other, with Jack watchin’ us and jerkin’ off. No complaints from him, though.”

River seemed hesitant to interrupt her reverie, but curiosity won out. “You, uh, into girls, then?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess… Misty’s the only one I’ve ever really been with. Rest’s just fantasies and BDs.” V let out a dreamy sigh. “Misty’s sweet, though. Love that girl. Jackie did too. Reckon that’s why we were all so good together--them as lovers and us as partners. We all just… loved each other so damn much. Especially Jackie. He was… the man was a force of nature. Hell in a fight and heaven at your side. He made everything… more. More fun, more alive, more worthwhile.” To her surprise, thinking of him right now didn’t hurt quite as much as it usually did.

“Sounds like he meant a lot to you,” River said, his voice kind. “The way you describe him… it’s kinda how I think about you, V.”

Something within her twisted harshly. She tried to smile. “Yeah?”

River didn’t appear to notice her interior struggle, fortunately. “Yeah,” he said. 

Thunder cracked and rumbled from somewhere off in the desert, beyond the city limits. 

River suddenly groaned and smacked a fist to his forehead. “Fuck! V, I gotta go--I’m sorry, I know this is gonk shit, but Joss has this appointment and I promised I’d watch the kids--”

“It’s fine, River. No worries.” V nodded at him, her hands wrapped around a third cup of coffee.

“It’s not fine, I can’t leave you stranded--” River stopped mid-sentence as a thought appeared to strike him. “Uhm. Or you could come with me? If you want? Kids’d love a rematch of that game of theirs with ya, I know it.” The former badge seemed almost shy about the offer. V desperately wanted to say yes.

“River, I… thanks, but I got some work to do today,” she declined gently, trying to ignore how the disappointment in his face matched the growing pit in her stomach. He rallied quickly, though.

“That’s fine, just thought I’d ask.” He tapped his metallic fingers on the table and frowned, looking out at the rain. “You sure you’re gonna be alright gettin’ home in this weather?”

“I’ll call a Delamain,” V said, leaning back in her seat. “Go on, get lost. Don’t make Joss late for her thing.”

River shot her a smile of gratitude as he got to his feet. “You’re an angel, V. Make this up to you later, I promise.”

“Nothin’ to make up. But I’ll look forward to you tryin’.” She smirked, and he bent down to kiss her. The touch of their lips was brief and sweet, and then he was gone, out the doors and into the storm. V watched his truck pull away until it turned a corner and vanished.

“The hell was that about? You love those little shits.” Silverhand appeared in the booth across from her, slumped back with his ankles crossed on the table, and looking deeply unimpressed. “Playin’ house with them and that fuckin’ gorilla you call an input, should be your goddamn dream date. Creamin’ your pants in domestic fuckin’ bliss. So what gives? I know you ain’t got a job lined up.”

“You don’t know shit, Silverhand,” V snapped. The cup she held crumpled as her grip tightened, and hot coffee sloshed over her fingers. She hissed in annoyance and pain, and started grabbing napkins. “Shit. Fuck.”

The engram applauded, slowly and very damn sarcastically. “Clearly I was mistaken. You’ve got it all worked out; ain’t comin’ apart at the seams even a little.”

“Fuck you, Johnny!” V said, a little louder than she meant to. There were other people in the dining room now, and one of them, a mother there with two boys, shot V a scathing glance. V cursed again, more quietly this time, and set up a holocall to a number she knew wouldn’t be answered.

_“Hola, this is Jackie…”_

With her eyes shining the telltale blue of cyberware communication, she could at least talk to Johnny without every person in the restaurant assuming she was insane. Using their weird mind-speech would’ve been easier, but V was too keyed up not to talk out loud. “What do you want from me, Silverhand?” she asked, her voice bitter and pitched low. 

“For you to get your fuckin’ shit together. Fine, you wanna wallow in misery and the kids’d ruin it--whatever. Couldn’t give less of a fuck, personally. But if you ain’t gonna do what makes you happy, at least do somethin’ right. Mikoshi. You need to get us there, and we’re runnin’ outta time.”

V shoved the wet mass of napkins aside with a scowl. “I am well fuckin’ aware. What I don’t know is what you expect me to be able to do about it. I don’t know how to fuckin’ deal with any of this shit. Life, death, Arasaka. I’m… small-time.”

“Bullshit. Try again.” Johnny phased out of reality and back in, now perched on the back of the booth and staring her down. “You _were_ small-time. You were a two-bit punk and a ‘runner and a thief, with less merc experience than my left nut. But you took your shot at the big leagues, crashed and burned and fuckin’ _died_ , and crawled out of that hell like a baptism. Now you’re sayin’ it’s all too much for you? I don’t buy it, V. Y’know why?” He scowled, leaning forward with his arms braced on his thighs. “‘Cuz if you weren’t willin’ to fight to the end of the line, no matter the odds, you would’ve stayed fuckin’ dead.”

V was silent. She listened to the rain on the glass, the quiet chatter of the other diners, the rumble of the cars passing by. One of her hands loosely cradled the other, and she was rubbing the side of her wrist.

Johnny kept pushing. “You’re alive, V. You know what that means--how goddamn lucky it makes you. So why ain’t you grabbin’ hold of everything that makes life worthwhile? Why’re you still crouchin’ and cringin’ in the dark?”

“Because it fuckin’ hurts, okay?” V finally burst out. Her glare could’ve leveled buildings, but it had no effect on Johnny Silverhand. “Because every time I remember I’m alive I think of the folks who ain’t. An’ how much it fuckin’ hurt me to lose ‘em. And how--how much losin’ me is gonna hurt the folks I care about.” She drew her jacket tighter around her, like she could make herself smaller that way. “Bad enough what I’m gonna do to River. No reason to fuck up his family too.”

Silverhand scoffed. “Pretty big opinion of yourself for a small-timer. What, you gonna ruin these kids’ lives by bein’ nice to them and then dying? People ain’t so fragile. And you’re still full of shit.”

“Yeah? You tell me what my problem is, then, if you know so fuckin’ much,” V muttered darkly.

“Believe me, it would be my goddamn pleasure,” Silverhand said. “But thing is: you don’t really give two shits what I think your problem is. You’re just pissed that you can’t lie to me like you lie to yourself, ‘cuz unlike you I’m not a fuckin’ gonk.”

V groaned and dropped her head to the table to rest on her folded arms. “Will you please just… fuck off. I don’t need this shit.”

“You really fuckin’ do. Remember what I said about ‘Saka Tower? That bomb you’re turnin’ yourself into ain’t just gonna hit ‘Saka when it blows. Two words, V: collateral fuckin’ damage.”

V looked up, ready to provide snide commentary on Silverhand’s counting abilities, but the engram was gone. She let out a soft sigh, and ended the holocall.

“Bye, Jackie.”

There had been a missed call while her line was busy, from a fixer. He had a job for her at an asylum.


	9. R+J) Goddamn Emoji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Gonna take a couple of days off from updates after this one. The actual writing part has been going much more slowly since I started editing and posting things, so I want to give myself a chance to catch up. All goes well, after the break we'll be back to once-a-day updates through to the end of the story. Thank you so much for sticking with me so far! It's so wonderful to know that doing this thing that makes me happy is making other people happy too. <3
> 
> Special thanks go out to a friend of mine from whom I klepped Johnny's line about kneecaps!
> 
> This chapter's really more of a teaser; if you don't wanna be left in suspense for 48-72 hours I suggest not reading it yet. If (like me) cliffhangers are your jam, though... enjoy!  
> -KB

### River

_**New Messages**_

_“Hey, V. Listen, since we agreed we’re better off as friends and all--think you could get me Señora Chin’s number? I’ve got this thing for women in uniform. Those tacky orange polo shirts, oof, y’know? Call me.”_

_“V, it’s River--obviously. Uh, Joss is back from her thing, and she wanted me to invite you over for dinner… after she finished givin’ me hell for leavin’ you on your own this morning, anyway. Heh. Well, if you’re sick of me, or not hungry, or still on the job, no worries. Just passin’ the offer along.”_

_“Okay, guessin’ you’re busy shootin’ gonks and takin’ names. Figure three calls in one day is pushin’ that edge between adorable and clingy, so I’ll wait to hear from ya. Give ‘em hell, V.”_

_“Mornin’, V. Woke up too damn early, thinkin’ of you. Sunrise from the watertower ain’t a bad view; I’d send you the feed, but I don’t wanna spoil the effect when you see it in person. Talk to you soon.”_

_“Hey, did I leave a backpack at your place the other night? No rush, nothin’ important inside, just clothes an’ shit, but I’d like to get it back at some point. You free tonight? I could come pick it up, or… eh. Whatever. Just… lemme know if you see the bag.”_

_“V. It’s been three days. I’m not--I thought we… fuck. I’m worried, V. If you’re hip-deep in merc shit, I get it, but give me somethin’, at least. Call, text… goddamn emoji for all I care. Tell me you’re alive.”_

_“Fucking hell, V. I’m losin’ my goddamn mind. Nobody’s seen you in almost a week. Misty was cryin’ when I talked to her. Where the fuck are you?!”_

_“...Johnny? If this’s Johnny Silverhand I’m talkin’ to, and V’s really... gone, at least have the tiniest fuckin’ shred of human decency and tell me so. Please. I just… I need to know.”_

### Johnny

“...hn.”

“Hey, kid. You awake?”

“Nnn… Joh… nny?”

“Yeah.”

“...dizzy.”

“That’ll be the drugs. They’ve been pumpin’ you full of enough ketamine and blockers to stagger a borged-out elephant. Think they’re scared of ya ‘cuz of how you messed up that guard on the way in. Nice one, by the way. Kneecaps’re a privilege, not a right, and that prick sure didn’t deserve ‘em.”

“Heh… ‘s funny…”

“Kid, if you’re laughin’ at my gonk jokes, you’re in worse shape than I figured.”

“...where?”

“Asylum out in the boonies. You had a job, got the client out all nice an’ cozy, but then you went back in for some gonk reason and they grabbed ya.”

“‘S...tryna help…”

“Yeah, and now you’re the one who needs helpin’. This’s what that chivalry shit’ll get you if you ain’t smart about it.”

“Smart… like you were? ‘Bout Alt?”

“Fuck me, I don’t need a lecture on my life history of fuck-ups from a vegetable.”

“Heh… ‘m tired, Johnny…”

“Go back to sleep then, kid.”

“Bad dreams…”

“Bad out here too. But I’m on watch. You can rest for now.”

“...’kay, but... once River’s here… I wanna see ‘im…”

“...sure, kid. If your badge shows up, I’ll wake ya.”

“Thanks, Johnny… you’re kinda nice sometimes…”

“You’re kinda drugged stupid. Sleep.”

“Mmkay… g’night…”

“...night, V.”


	10. R) Bedazzled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're back! Thanks for your patience! This beast is now pushing 60k in draft form, so expect daily updates for the next two weeks or so. Still haven't landed on the ending yet, but I know where I'm going and it's just a matter of time before I get there. Stay tuned!
> 
> -KB

### River

Moonlight bled out into bright green neon as River crossed the threshold of the Afterlife. The door guy did not look pleased to see him again.

“Your output ain’t here, so you ain’t got no business bein’ here either, pig.”

River’s jaw clenched hard. He forced his voice into something resembling calm. “V’s missin’. And I just wanna talk to Claire. Can you tell her I’m here? Don’t even gotta let me inside.”

“Claire’s busy. Happens in bars, on weekends, ‘case you didn’t know.”

“Just--” River’s ‘ganic hand curled into a tight fist. “Please. I need to ask her a question. Might be a matter of life or death. For V.” This bruiser might be happier to spit in River’s face while he was drowning than pull him out of the water, but River was betting he liked V.

Everyone liked V, unless she’d pointed a gun at them recently. Sometimes even then.

The huscle hesitated, but finally grunted in annoyed acquiescence. He made the call and relayed the response to River. “She’ll meet you upstairs in the alley on her next break. Five minutes.”

River nodded stiffly and turned to leave. He was about as interested in thanking the guy as the guy probably would have been to hear it.

The alley was dingy and nondescript, exactly the same as thousands of others in Night City, complete with gang tags and stinking dumpsters. The side door into the building had better security than average, though. River was willing to bet more than one set of dumb punks had tried to bust into the Afterlife that way in search of their big break. Now there was a pretty intense looking mag-lock on the door and a turret set in the wall just above it, scanning the enviro with a beady lens. River shoved his hands in his coat pockets and tried not to scream his frustration and fear into the darkened sky while he waited.

The red-headed bartender ducked out the door a few minutes later, wiping her hands on her short apron. She looked harried, sweat on her forehead and strands of hair escaping from her ponytail, but her expression was curious as she eyed River up and down. “Hey there. Emmerick said you had somethin’ to ask me. This about V?”

River inclined his head. “Yeah. She’s missing. Friends haven’t seen her in about a week. Last I heard, she mentioned she had a job lined up. There any chance you could hook me up with a list of fixers she might’ve been in contact with?”

The woman’s brow creased in worry. “Fuck! Should’ve known something was up; sent her a pic of some corpo’s dumbass custom wheels that got busted up few days ago and heard nothin’ back. The thing was fuckin’ bedazzled! Shit like that always gets a laugh outta her.” She dug into the pocket of her jeans and came up with an actual, physical cellphone--a rarity, and considering NC’s obsessive mod culture, getting rarer by the day. “Gimme your number; I’ll text you the info.”

River felt some of the unbearable tension he was carrying in his chest release and surge into gratitude. “Thanks, Claire. You have no idea how much this helps; I’ve been workin’ blind here.” 

River wasn’t exactly a slouch in the investigative department. He had his years of history on the force, not to mention the network of independent contacts he was setting up to establish his own business as a PI. But this wasn’t his usual beat. He didn’t keep track of mercs and fixers the same way he did gang leaders and drug kingpins--and he’d shaken every rotten tree in that field already. He needed reliable intel, and he needed it faster than the usual network of introductions and friend-of-a-friends could get it to him.

“These seven are the top level fixers in the city--other than Rogue, but I can just ask her about V myself when I go back downstairs,” Claire explained to him, her fingers flying over the keypad of her phone. “They each have their own territory. Pretty much the same as the city district lines, but there’s some overlap and some gaps. V’s on her way up, too big for the no-name fixers--if she took a job, odds are damn near certain it was from one of these people. I’d start with Regina Jones--she’s friendliest to outsiders to the biz, plus V lives on her turf. I know they’re on good terms. Worst case, if she doesn’t know where V is, she can still get you an intro to any of the other six.”

“You’re a goddamn lifesaver, Claire.”

“Hey, what’re friends--and nosy bartenders--for?” Claire flashed him a brief grin, though the levity didn’t reach her eyes. “Seriously, though… V’s had my back since the day I met her. Some drunk asshole was hasslin’ me about my tits bein’ fake and V rearranged his face for me ‘fore I even had the chance to call Emmerick over. You’re gonna fuckin’ find her, right?”

“I am,” River said grimly. Neither of them standing in the alley wanted to lie to the other, and say that V would be all right when he did. But River knew he could keep a promise to at least find her, if not a single damn thing else. Wherever she was, however long it took, whatever _this fucking city_ had done to her… he wasn’t gonna stop until the end.

“Break’s almost over,” Claire said by way of excusing herself, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll text you whatever I hear from Rogue straight away.” She looked apologetic, and even more tired than she had before the conversation.

River waved her off. “Thanks for seein’ me. Soon’s I find V, I’ll make sure she calls ya first chance she gets.”

“‘Preciate it.” Claire hesitated in the doorway. “Get her home safe, yeah?” she said--an echo of the night they met, when River picked up a blackout drunk V from the bar.

Whether or not the repetition was deliberate on Claire’s part, River remembered his cue just as well.

“Always do.”


	11. J) Follow You Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the start of the stuff I mentioned back in chapter 1 that V/Johnny shippers might like. There aren't gonna be any explicit sexy hijinks between them in this story, but deep emotional angst about how much they mean to each other and how they're basically queerplatonic life partners? Ohhh yeah; that is my shit right there.
> 
>  **Content warnings:** Johnny makes a joke about committing suicide; institutionalization & medical malfeasance.
> 
> Thoughts & memories of the chapter POV character are _italicized._  
>  -KB

### Johnny

Johnny Silverhand was not living his best life. To begin with, he was dead, and shit just rolled merrily downhill from there. Currently, he was locked in a mental institution with his symbiotic brain partner, who was blitzed out of her mind on pharmaceuticals administered by some seriously shady gonks in lab coats. Johnny doubted they’d ever so much as wandered within spitting distance of the Hippocratic Oath.

This place was a prison. A very bad kind of prison, where the wardens didn’t just lock the door and then fuck off to watch porn and eat chips. They kept coming into the cell, over and over again, with clipboards and syringes and electrodes, ticking boxes and taking notes. V was a medical oddity, thanks to Johnny and the biochip, but Johnny had a weird feeling it wasn’t just that. He kept watching over their shoulders as they made their charts, listening to their conversations as they walked through his unseen presence, trying to parse the bullshit jargon into something that made sense. Something he could do something about, other than just… stand there and watch it happen.

V was dying. Johnny could feel the sharp bursts of static the Relic was discharging into her brain, and he knew that if she wasn’t strung out beyond belief she would have been howling in pain and coughing blood on these assholes’ nice white coats. Or maybe not--she was tough, maybe she could’ve held off on the screaming, but it would’ve still fucking hurt and it was hurting her now even if she couldn’t feel it. Time was running out--for their plans for Mikoshi, for V’s unfinished business, for… whatever was left of Johnny Silverhand’s soul.

He felt like he was fucking dying, watching her die. Was this what all that shitty music was about? He doubted it. No one would’ve written a song about something that felt this goddamn awful. Not even fucking Kerry.

_“Just because you have all the emotional depth of a fuckin’ trout, Silverhand, doesn’t mean the rest of humanity is that stunted.”_

_They’d been in the green room, waiting for their opening act to finish. Usually Johnny liked to listen to whatever the new kids were doing, but this batch were playing nothing but pussy shit that made you want to saw your fucking wrists open. He had said as much to Kerry, who took it poorly._

_Johnny took a drag from his cigarette and flicked some dirt off his leather pants. He was sprawled out on the cheap, stained couch, Nancy was outside fighting with the promoter like usual, Hank and Denny were snogging in a corner like usual, and Kerry was tuning his already-tuned ax and glaring at him. Like usual._

_“See what ya did there, Ker. Trout, depth. Fuckin’ masterful literary allusion; when’s the Nobel committee callin’?” His speech was a little slurred, but a couple shots of whiskey before a set made screaming into the mike for an hour a whole lot easier. How long had they been doing this? Felt like he was older than he should be._

_“You’re not funny, Johnny. And you’re not wise because you’re jaded and like to pretend shit doesn’t get to you. Those kids out there are bleedin’ rock onto the stage, like we used to. Just cuz they’re singin’ about love ‘stead of war, that don’t make ‘em weak.”_

_Johnny snorted, which led to a coughing fit when he choked on his cigarette smoke. “Christ, Kerry…” he said, thumping on his chest once his lungs were clear. “Love? What the shit do kids know about that? They’re dumb and horny, can’t see past the end of their own cocks if you planted a fuckin’ neon sign in the dickhole.”_

_Kerry flinched, clearly unappreciative of Johnny’s particular brand of literary flair. Still, he recovered fast. “They know more’n you, Silverhand.” His tone and the sidelong glance he cast at Johnny were both pure ice. “Maybe you’ll figure that out one day. If you’re lucky enough to live ‘til you finish shittin’ your head out of your goddamn ass.”_

_Johnny let out a raspy chuckle, drawing bitter smoke into his lungs and holding it there. “If that whiny dickless bullshit ever starts makin’ sense to me, I hope I die that goddamn day.”_

The assholes in lab coats were gone for the moment, and he and V were alone. The merc was curled up on a cot, practically fetal, and she was dreaming. Johnny could tell by the way her eyes darted frantically beneath their lids, and the quiet, childish whimpers that passed through her gritted teeth now and then.

Johnny folded his arms, scowling as he watched her sleep. “Fuck, V…” he muttered in the darkness. “It ain’t supposed to go down like this.”

He could have laughed at his own despair, if it didn’t make him feel so cold. How was it supposed to go, really? Was there any ending to this drama that wasn’t tragedy at best and sheer fucking disaster at worst? The ideal scenario, that he’d pictured in his mind so many fucking times it was etched there like a prayer, where Mikoshi was destroyed and V got her body back and Arasaka paid for its sins… that still ended with him dead. And as little of a fuck as he gave about his own shitty digital half-life… losing him was gonna hit V hard. He was starting to understand what she’d meant at the restaurant. When hell was looming up ahead of you, easier to clear the road than to let folks you love follow you down.

“Fuck that,” Johnny growled. He crouched next to V’s cot, putting himself at eye level with her sleeping face. “Hey. V. Fuck all of that. You hear me? Let’s blow it all to shit.” He rested his pixelated approximation of a hand on her shoulder, where it sank through the thin fabric of the institutional scrubs she wore and stopped at her skin. “Fuck ‘Saka, fuck the chip… hell, fuck me. You’re the one who’s dyin’. If you wanna go live out the rest of your time in a trailer park with a gonk-lookin’ badge and a couple screamin’ kids, you do it. Can’t promise I won’t be a whiny bitch about it now an’ then, but I’ll be there for ya. Every step of the way. ‘Til the end.” He squeezed her shoulder, and she murmured in her sleep. Nothing he could make out. 

“Or if you wanna roll out with Panam and the nomads, hit the road, see the sights, we could do that. Hell, if we make it down to Mexico I’ll even play tour guide, ‘long as you don’t mind that the tour’s of a bunch of smokin’ ruins and mass graves.” He grinned flatly at his own poor attempt at humor. “Point is… point is, V. You deserve better. Dunno if I’ve ever seen life deal a shittier run of cards to anybody, and you still ante up every hand. This fuckin’ city… this fuckin’ _world_ is broken, and when I was younger and dumber that pissed me off so bad I wanted to break it worse.” Footsteps were echoing in the hall outside, and Johnny paused to judge if they were coming closer. They were. He talked faster.

“But you, V--you’re a goddamn miracle. Fifty fuckin’ years of soul prison was worth it to meet you. To be in your head, and to know what it’s like to be a… a whole goddamn human being. Shit.” Johnny ran a hand through his hair, nails harshly digging into his scalp. “I’m gonna make myself puke, sayin’ shit like that. You should really be laughin’ at me by now, V. Since you ain’t, means you can’t hear me, so I gotta tell you something else.”

The door to the padded cell opened behind him, and the lab coats were dragging some kind of machinery in. Silverhand leaned into V, close enough that his lips could’ve almost touched her ear. If they were real. If he was real.

“I’m gonna keep you safe, V. I swear.”


	12. R) This City Hates Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jasmine Dixon is a character in the game (Gig: Cuckoo's Nest); her husband is mentioned but not by name, so I gave him one. This chapter and the next are both pretty short, but after that things will get... meatier. In, uh, a few ways.
> 
> :D  
> -KB

### River

River had knocked half a dozen times, and he was starting to worry no one was home. It was an unassuming little white house out in what passed for Night City’s suburbs. He didn’t really fit in here. He’d seen one of the neighbors usher her kids inside from playing on the front lawn when she spotted him.

But he wasn’t leaving without answers.

He knocked again, this time with his mechanical hand to add some force. “Sergeant Dixon? Please, I really do need to speak with you. It’s about--”

The door yanked open abrupt and River found himself facing the double barrel of a shotgun. A short, dark-haired white man was on the other end of it, and he looked terrified.

River lifted his empty hands slowly. “Easy, Mr. Dixon,” he said, in a tone that was peaceful but still demonstrated his respect for the threat posed by the man. Being able to talk to people that way had come in handy more than once while deescalating conflicts during his time on the force. “My name is River Ward. I’m looking for a friend of mine, and I think your wife might have been the last person to see her before she went missing. My friend was the person the fixer sent to bring your wife home to you.” Though River didn’t love having a gun pulled on him, he could more than understand the man’s reluctance to trust a stranger on his doorstep, after what his wife had been through.

“H-how did you find us? We moved! Bought the house under a fake name!” The man with the gun protested, his eyes a little too wide.

“It wasn’t easy,” River said, which was the truth. 

He’d gone from Claire’s lead Regina Jones to a fixer named Reyes, who admitted he set up V with a job they day she went missing but wouldn’t say anything else about it. From there River had called in one of his few remaining favors at the department to get access to surveillance and traffic cam footage from the part of town that was considered Reyes’ territory. V herself couldn’t be IDed in the footage, thanks to her custom optics that provided facial camouflage when caught on film, but River had found her bike. Rewinding the cams to the day of V’s disappearance, River had seen a dark-skinned woman with a blur over her features park the bike, leave for a few hours, and come back with a blonde woman, who she talked with before helping her get into a car that pulled up. Then V left the frame again and didn’t return. Facial recognition on the blonde led him to Sergeant Jasmine Dixon, formerly of the NCPD, and tapping into some underworld sources that he would have preferred to avoid got him a trace on the new identities the Dixons had bought. 

He doubted the man at the door really wanted all of those details, though, however salient. “I work as a PI. If you want, after I talk to your wife, I can explain exactly how I tracked you down so you can cover your trail better in the future, just in case. But first… please. I need to find my friend.”

A slim, pale hand settled on Mr. Dixon’s shoulder from just beyond the door frame. A woman’s voice asked softly, “What was your friend’s name?”

“V. Her name is V.”

“...let him in, Mark.”

“Jas, are you sure?” In contrast to his cold stare at River, the man’s gaze when he looked at his wife was soft and reverent. Whatever the woman said to him in reply was too quiet for River to hear, but then the door was opening wider. “Come in, then,” Mark Dixon said gruffly, lowering the shotgun to his side.

Inside, the house was sparsely furnished. Moving boxes were stacked everywhere. River halted awkwardly in the foyer, uncertain where exactly he was welcome. A blonde woman, so frail and thin she was almost a ghost, beckoned him into the kitchen.

“Tea?” she offered, indicating that River should sit down at the little synth-wood table by the window. The glass was shrouded with filmy white curtains, making it nearly impossible to see the street outside. Or to see inside from the front porch, as River had noted earlier.

“No thank you,” River said politely, trying to ignore the part of him that wanted to flip the goddamn table and yell about he didn’t have time for this, he needed answers _now_. It wouldn’t help, no matter how temporarily satisfying it sounded. These people were scared, and he needed to set them at ease, even if he personally was so far past ‘ease’ he had lapped it three times around the track and was coming up on a fourth. “Some water would be great, though, if it’s no trouble.”

The woman--Jasmine Dixon, according to River’s sources--nodded and poured two glasses from a carafe in the fridge. She sat down at the table beside him, while her husband watched protectively from the doorway, gun near to hand. As she took a sip of her own water, River noticed her hands were trembling. But her voice was steady enough when she asked him, “You’re with the NCPD, aren’t you?”

River heard the shotgun’s safety click off behind him. He raised his hands again, fighting back a wave of bitter exhaustion. “I used to be a cop, yes. Then I investigated some shit the higher-ups would rather I had left alone, and I got suspended and got to decide if keepin’ the badge was worth sellin’ my soul. Ended up takin’ early retirement.” He met Jasmine’s gaze and held it. “I’m not NCPD any more than you are, _Sergeant_.”

The woman flinched at the title, but nodded at her husband, and River heard him lower the gun. “You’re lucky you got to make that decision, Ward. When I was in your shoes… the higher-ups chose for me. Put me away before I had the chance to do the right thing.” Her voice was tight. “Guess we’ll never know if I would’ve done it, in the end.”

“You would have, Jasmine,” River said, without hesitation. “Saw your record, while I was tracking you down. Sixteen years of exemplary service. You did everything you could to help the people of this city--to protect who you could and to get justice for those who couldn’t be saved. You were the genuine article, a goddamn hero cop.”

Jasmine seemed not to hear him for a moment, looking out at the shrouded window. “...this city hates heroes,” she said at last, and she sounded so fucking lost it broke River’s heart a little. But he still needed answers from her.

“Yeah. It’s a fucked up place,” he said, leaning over the table in an attempt to catch her eyes again. “But it needs heroes anyway, even if it hates ‘em. My friend, V… she’s a hero. Would laugh me outta the room if she heard me say so, but it’s true. She makes life better for everyone around her, like she can’t even help it. She gives everything she’s got to help the people who need it, whether they deserve it or not. She saves people. She saved me,” River said, only realizing how true it was as he said it. “Leavin’ the force… I lost faith in everything I’d built my life on. Without V… that life woulda got real dark, real quick.”

“She saved me, too,” Jasmine said quietly. “More than just getting me out of that place. She talked to me. Helped me keep it together when it felt like everything was falling apart. Made me feel like… like I was safe.”

“That’s V,” River said, his voice laden with conviction. “Jasmine, please. _Tell me where she is_.”


	13. J) Sweet Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that this fic is now "creator chose not to use archive warnings," rather than "no archive warnings apply." This chapter is the set-up to an assault that happens off-screen, which may be assumed to be sexual in nature. I'm intentionally leaving the exact details unwritten, and later references will remain oblique. Sex and trauma and kink and abuse and the ways they can all get tangled up are a recurring theme/thing I am processing in this work, and I may not always handle it well, but I will always do my best to give fair warning so that nobody is surprised by a topic that makes them uncomfortable. I meant what I said in the first chapter's notes: that if you read any of this thing, I genuinely love you, even if we're strangers. So take care of yourselves, please. Take your trauma triggers seriously. Tell me if I missed a warning that would have been helpful. Enjoy as much of this story as you want to, and bow out whenever you need to.
> 
> **Content warnings** for this chapter: nonconsensual medical tests and procedures including brain surgery, infertility mention, implied sexual assault.
> 
> Also if any medical professionals are reading: sorry for any painfully misused terms or jargon. If you want to give me credit I don't deserve, assume it's me hinting that the guy using the terms isn't actually a qualified physician. Because he really, really isn't.  
> -KB

### Johnny

“Subject is Jane Doe, approximately 28 years old judging by the dental analysis. Significant cyberware modification is present in the subject, including but not limited to: a fully reinforced titanium skeleton, Kiroshi optics (serial number untraceable, possibly procured on the black market), a Tetratonic Mk. 5 cyberdeck (heavily encrypted and protected by personal ICE; no progress has yet been made in cracking it), a synaptic accelerator and several limbic system enhancements, in addition to synthetic muscle fiber upgrades and a sub-dermal durability weave. Modifications appear primarily focused on defense and stealth capabilities, though several common offensive implants are also installed.”

The researcher was walking slowly around the chair that V was strapped to, his eyes shining blue as he recorded every angle of her for his notes. V was awake, kind of, her head lolling against the back of the chair as she glared at the man.

“...you’re… ‘fensive,” she hissed. 

Johnny rested his face in his palm and groaned. “Can you please just fuckin’ try to be a little less pathetic? Please. V. For me. Don’t talk to this asshole; he ain’t worth the oxygen.” V went quiet, but Johnny wasn’t sure if that meant she was taking his advice or she’d passed out again.

“Epidermis of the torso appears largely organic, evidenced by the excessive presence of rigid keloid tissue,” the asshole continued.

“‘S he sayin’, Johnny…?” V had not passed out, apparently.

“That you’ve got a lot of scars, gonk. Shut up.” 

To Johnny’s disgust, V fucking giggled. But at least she didn’t say anything else. This was hard enough to watch without her making a fucking fool of herself.

_Fuck._

“All major internal organs are organic in nature. Subject has not received an appendectomy, suggesting a childhood lacking access to modern medicine. Damage to lungs indicative of recent smoking behavior. Damage to the uterus suggests an attempt at a partial hysterectomy. The subject is likely infertile as a result.”

_Fuck._

“Cranial scarring and fracture patterns indicative of multiple neurosurgeries in the subject’s adolescent years, possibly related to the implantation or removal of some crude form of cyberware. Modern ripperdoc techniques were not used in these procedures.”

_Fuck everything about this goddamn place._

“Finally, scans have revealed a biotic anomaly in the subject’s DNA. A cascade failure effect appears to be imminent, possibly triggered by an extremely rare genetic disorder or an encounter with some new form of bioweapon. The data we’ve succeeded in collecting thus far is unique in the field of medical literature. The anomaly’s progress in the coming days should prove fascinating to observe. End log.” The unnaturally bright blue of the man’s eyes faded to a paler shade of the same color, and he reached out to pat V’s cheek. The context made the friendly gesture obscene. “That all sound about right to you, sweetheart, or did you have something to add?”

V groaned, her eyelids fluttering open and shut. 

“Didn’t think so,” the man said blithely. He turned to the two lab techs who were in the room, monitoring the machines hooked up to V. “You two can go to lunch.”

The two men looked at each other. One of them rolled his eyes, but they left without further comment. If Johnny could’ve, he would’ve strangled them both with their own goddamn guts.

_Think of something, dammit!_ But Johnny had nothing. No power, no control, not even a fucking voice to scream with. Whatever this asshole had in mind for V, there was nothing Johnny could do to stop it. 

That didn’t mean there was nothing he could do.

“Hey, V,” he said quietly, setting his hands on her shoulders. Her eyes were still closed, but he thought her mouth moved in a way a little like a smile when he spoke. “Gonna be okay. I got this one. You just rest.” He didn’t know if he could do this without the pills; he’d never tried. But it had to work. Had to.

He’d promised she would be safe.

“Sweet dreams, kid.” Johnny Silverhand closed his eyes, _pushed_ \--

And opened V’s.


	14. R+J) A Great Day to Retire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Shipman and his "research" only exist in the game as a single email, and this chapter is inspired largely by how mad it made me that I couldn't kill him and burn his whole operation to the ground. Dr. Emi is an OC.
> 
> **Content warnings:** euthanasia, referenced sexual assault, gore.
> 
> POV character thoughts are _italicized._
> 
> -KB

### River

_What the fuck is Arasaka doing here?_

Two corpo-branded military-grade SUVs flanking an elegant town car had pulled into the parking lot of the asylum. Some bodyguard type huscle in a suit got out of the town car and went to open the back door for the passenger. An older Japanese woman in a pencil skirt stepped out. Her white hair was pulled back in a severe bun, she had no obvious cybernetic enhancements, and she was clearly in charge. 

People in riot gear were spilling out of the SUVs. They seemed relaxed, not like they were about to stage a raid; the face shields of their helmets were up and they were talking amongst themselves. One of them was smoking, one of them was laughing at some joke another had made. When the older woman beckoned without even bothering to look at them, however, two of them snapped their face shields down and hefted their weapons, falling into step behind the woman as she set a brisk pace for the front door of the asylum. The other troops remained behind, milling around the vehicles.

River had a very bad feeling about this. His Thorton was parked close to the entrance, so he was able, with swift strides, to reach the front door before the corpos. He held the door open for the woman and her escorts, smiling politely. She barely acknowledged him, which was just fine, because all he needed was a brush of her jacket to slip the bug on her.

For a medical facility, the place was a bit of a fortress. High walls topped with barbed wire, guard station at the parking lot entrance, surveillance cams everywhere. Private security in uniform patrolled the area, and River’s stakeout had almost been interrupted by them more than once over the last few hours. He had crept around the building, checking for blind spots and escape routes, before formulating a plan in his mind and leaving to pick up a few supplies. When he’d returned and parked out front, the next step was to go inside and find a doctor or an orderly to plant the bug on. He'd concocted a fictional grandma with dementia that he wanted to talk to someone about having committed for his excuse to be there. But when the Arasaka convoy rolled up… he improvised.

_Why do I feel like they’re here for her?_ V’s biochip was valuable stolen Arasaka tech, sure, but there could be any number of reasons for a bunch of shady corpos to pay a visit to a shady place like this. It probably had nothing to do with her. River had probably just wasted the bug he’d bought, which was a shame since it wasn’t cheap. But despite what was probable by the laws of statistics, River’s instincts held firm. He followed the corpos inside.

The waiting room was about as depressing a place as River could imagine. Everything screamed of neglect: from the dingy gray walls, mold-flecked near the sagging ceiling, to the cracked synth-leather of the benches, to the screamsheets scattered around that were months out of date, all underscored by the harsh smell of chlorine bleach and the unrelenting hum of the SCSMs. The reception desk was unstaffed, and River hung back while the woman from Arasaka approached it.

“Please!” A broken cry ripped River’s attention to an office door set in the corner of the wall behind the reception desk. A young man was being half-wrestled, half-carried out by two security guards. “I just want to see my dad! I just need to talk to him, please let me see--” The guards hustled the kid out the door, completely immune to his begging. River shoved his hands in his pockets, letting them curl into fists there, out of sight. He couldn’t help V if he was out in the parking lot throwing down with security. The kid would be fine once they got him off the property. Well, not _fine_ , but not physically injured.

_Don’t lose focus._

A receptionist emerged from the office, taking a seat behind the front desk. He had neck tats and looked more like a gangoon than a medical professional. “Hello, ma’am, welcome to the Rancho Coronado Behavioral Health Center. How may I assist you?” He addressed the corpo woman smoothly, as if the incident a minute ago with a howling kid being dragged bodily through the lobby had never happened.

The visitor didn’t acknowledge the event any more than the desk staffer did. “Please inform Dr. Shipman that I require a meeting.”

“Dr. Shipman is very busy; do you have an appoint--” River couldn’t see whatever the expression on the woman’s face was or the gesture she made, but he heard the receptionist stutter to a halt and begin a hasty backtrack. “Or I could page him for you now. Go right ahead to the office; he’ll meet you there. Ah, who should I tell him is waiting for him?”

“Arasaka,” the woman said coldly, and strode into the office with her escort. The door shut behind them. The receptionist muttered something into a walkie-talkie and then scurried off like a frightened roach. River took a seat on one of the benches, picking up a screamsheet to flick through idly. Without giving any outward sign, he tuned into the frequency of the bug, listening to what he presumed was the rustle of the woman’s jacket as she took a seat in the other room.

The corpos didn’t chatter among themselves. The first voice River heard a few minutes later was an unfamiliar one--likely the harried Dr. Shipman. “Forgive me for making you wait. Word of your visit caught me completely by surprise, I’m afraid. Did you arrange a meeting by email? Our servers have recently been compromised; the message may have gotten lost.”

“I did not.”

“Ah… well.” The doctor’s businesslike tone faltered as the woman brusquely refused to accept the polite conversational out he had offered her. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, Ms…?”

“Emi. Dr. Emi, Arasaka Research Division 8. My credentials.” There was a pause as she presumably beamed the man her details via cyberlink. Shipman sounded thoroughly chastened and slightly awed when he spoke again.

“Dr. Emi, it is an honor to have a scientist of your caliber take an interest in our humble institution. May I ask what brings you here this evening?”

“Explain to me the circumstances under which you acquired the subject in block B, cell 7.” 

River’s breath hitched. _V…_

“The circumstances were… unusual,” Shipman said, sounding like he was caught somewhere between wariness and desperately wanting to brag. “We had a break-in recently. The intruder accessed our internal server, apparently for the purpose of locating and extracting one of our… more troubled patients. In the process, they decrypted several confidential email chains regarding the patient’s health--”

“You can skip the euphemisms; I’m well aware of what you do here.”

“Er. Yes, that is… that particular correspondence was between myself and a representative of a certain pharmaceutical corp--I’m sure you understand discretion prevents me from naming them --regarding test subjects for a new drug of theirs that may cause severe side effects in pregnant women. Only one of our patients is currently pregnant, but we have several others who could be inducted into the study given time.”

River felt like he was about to throw up. His stomach churned and his jaw clenched hard. _That’s why you went back in, V. You couldn’t leave any of them, could you?_

“One of those patients was the target of the intruder, whom we believe to be a mercenary hired by an unknown party. After sneaking the target out of the building, the mercenary returned. Her intentions in doing so are unclear, but our security forces managed to apprehend her, sustaining severe injuries but no casualties. Normally, we would have handed her over to the NCPD, but considering she had cost us one of our limited supply of viable wombs, it seemed fair to me that she be volunteered for the study instead.” 

River could hardly hear the man’s words over the roaring of the blood in his ears.

“Unfortunately, she proved to be unsuitable for that particular research, but we tapped into a veritable goldmine of fascinating data when we began testing her biometrics. She’s completely unique; a medical marvel, so far as we can tell. Her genetics--it’s like she’s two unrelated people at once, somehow. And her brainwaves! I’ve never seen activity like it; her chart looks almost like a kaleidoscope. She really should be dead.” The man sounded deeply impressed. Not that anything could endear him to River even slightly by this point.

“Yes.” Dr. Emi was speaking now, slowly and coldly. “All very exciting. So exciting, in fact, that some of your people have been sharing data related to the subject in certain dark corners of the net. Our ‘runners flagged it, and the data made its way to me.” She paused, letting the silence grow heavy and significant. “Are you aware, Dr. Shipman, that the subject has been implanted with proprietary Arasaka biotechnology? Experimental, _highly classified_ technology.”

River heard the danger in the woman’s voice, though Shipman seemed more confused than worried. “I wasn’t aware, no. Most of her cyberware appears to be black market acquisitions. Serial numbers untraceable, biochem tags removed. If I had realized Arasaka had an interest in this woman, of course I would have informed you.”

“Of course,” Dr. Emi said silkily. “No doubt you would have been happy to sell our rightful property back to us.” Shipman started to protest, but she cut him off. “Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t resist getting your grubby, loathsome fingerprints all over a new toy. Fingerprints which have now spilled on to the net, tracing back to you, and therefore to _us_.” She sounded like a queen, passing judgement. “Tell me, doctor. Are you familiar with the subtleties of the phrase ‘highly classified’?”

A gunshot rang out, and River leapt to his feet. He had heard it with his ‘ganic ears as well as through the bug.

Emi was talking again, probably addressing one of the soldiers she’d brought with her. “Thank you, Claude. Make sure to leave the pistol in his hand.”

A gruff male voice River hadn’t heard before asked, “Orders, ma’am?”

“Retrieve the subject and then scrub this place clean. An electrical fire, perhaps. No witnesses.”

River started running.

It wasn’t long before alarms were blaring. River flung himself shoulder-first through the doors to the main ward, bowling over a confused orderly in his path. The orderly shouted at him, but he barrelled heedlessly down the halls. Red emergency lighting flickered on, and River could hear gunfire being exchanged somewhere within the building--probably a standoff between Arasaka and the private security. The floor tiles were slippery, and River skidded as he plunged around a corner and found himself facing a guard. 

“Hey, uh--now’s a great time to retire,” River said brightly. The guard opened his mouth in puzzlement, reaching for his weapon, and River socked him across the jaw. The guy staggered; River kicked him in the knee, sending him crumpling the rest of the way to the ground. River snatched the keycard from his lanyard as he fell. “Seriously, unemployment can do wonders for your health,” he muttered, and kept running.

Pounding up a set of stairs, he came to an empty hallway lined with cells. Some were dark behind the glass, others held slumbering forms that seemed dead to the world despite the noise of sirens and shouting. In others, prisoners stared out at him as he flew past, silently watching or pounding on the door and screaming. None of them were V.

Footsteps echoed from up ahead. River’s gaze darted wildly around the corridor, nowhere to hide except--

He threw himself into one of the dark cells, the door hissing shut just as a pair of guards turned a corner and strode down the hall. They were alert, weapons drawn, watching each others’ backs. River stood in the darkness and tried to hold his breath.

A foul odor reached his nose, like rot and shit. Carefully, he turned his head, peering into the blackness of the room behind him. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he could make out a shape like a netrunner chair, and a body--

River dropped to his knees, pressing his arm over his mouth to keep from vomiting or inhaling any more of that stench. A dead woman was in the chair, hair clotted with her own brain matter leaking from her open skull. As River stared, horrified, he saw the slight rise and fall of her chest that meant _she wasn’t fucking dead, she was alive with half her skull sawed off, what the fuck--_

_What the fuck is this place?_

With a trembling hand, he reached out to cover the woman’s nose and mouth. She gave no reaction, but slowly the motion of her chest grew shallower, until it stilled entirely. River didn’t know why he had done it, except that--even though the whole place was about to burn to the ground--it seemed inhuman to make that woman wait, and suffer, for even a few more minutes.

The guards in the hallway had passed. Probably Arasaka had turned them into bullet-ridden target practice by now. River was running out of time.

He staggered down the corridor, using the stolen keycard to open every single cell he passed. Someone tried to thank him; he just told them to run. They had a miniscule chance of slipping past Arasaka; they had no chance if he left them behind to burn.

He had to find V.

### Johnny

The sirens were giving Johnny a goddamn headache. Not that everything else didn’t already hurt anyway. He groaned, and forced V’s body from the cot into a semi-upright position. The drugs didn’t affect him the same way they did her--maybe the body metabolized better with him driving, or maybe he still had his tolerance from the bad old days, or some shit. While V had been paralyzed, Johnny could still move.

Albeit painfully fucking slowly.

Alarms blaring, red lights in the hallways. Fire somewhere, maybe. But something felt off. Johnny closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, nostrils flaring, reveling in having a sense of smell for once. There, somewhere beneath the omnipresent antiseptic stench of the place--gunpowder.

Shit was getting real.

With a grunt of effort, Johnny lurched to his feet. V’s feet. Whatever. Bracing a fist against the wall to take his weight, he managed to limp his way to the door. Guards were gone. Time they should be getting gone, too.

The cell was frustratingly bare of useful tools. The cot was too heavy to move. The lab coat assholes never left any equipment behind after their tests. All Johnny had to hand were the stupid fucking pajamas V wore. No shoes, even.

“Shit,” he muttered, eyeing the glass that stood between them and the outside world. “This is gonna suck.” He shifted, standing so he was parallel to the door and a few steps away. With brutal efficiency and a running start, he slammed his elbow into the glass, driving his body weight behind it.

Any ordinary glass would have shattered, especially considering V’s unyielding titanium bones. But the reinforced pane only shivered and held fast, leaving Silverhand clutching his rapidly bruising elbow and cursing a blue streak. “Fuck! Fuckin’ goddamn cocksucker--”

The door slid open without warning, and there was V’s dopey input, looking all heartbroken and hopeful.

_Fuckin’ kill me._

### River

“V,” he breathed, and moved to embrace her. She skipped two stumbling steps back out of reach, swearing all the while.

“Keep your goddamn gorilla hands to yourself, pig.”

River hesitated. V’s eyes were narrowed and cold. She never looked at him that way… like he was an enemy. “...Silverhand?”

“Fifty-fifty and you got it on the second try. Give the man a kewpie doll,” V snarled sarcastically. She plunged forward, trying to shove past him, but River caught her by the upper arm.

“V--is she--”

Silverhand growled and yanked the arm out of his grasp, but there was the barest grudging hint of understanding in V’s voice at least. “She’s still here.” Two fingers tapped at the woman’s temple. “Just sleepin’. Now let’s fuckin’ move before we’re all fuckin’ dead.”

Despite her--his--bravado, Silverhand in V’s body could barely walk. River kept pace with him for a long, agonizing minute, before he couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m carryin’ you.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ _think of_ \--”

River swept V into his arms, ignoring Silverhand’s curses and aspersions on his manhood, and headed for the stairs to the roof.

Outside, the moon was high, and everything was chaos. The security forces and Arasaka were firing at each other in the parking lot, bullets bursting chunks out of the cement barriers and parked cars where the opposing sides took cover. River noted the town car was gone, meaning Dr. Emi had vacated the premises now that it was time for the dirty work. His own Thorton had taken some fire, which had torn good-sized divots in the body and ragged holes in the tires. No escape that way. 

A fire had been started in the main office, and River could see orange tongues of flame licking up the walls while black smoke billowed out of the windows. It hadn’t spread to the treatment ward yet, but it would.

With a groan, he set Silverhand on the roof. “I gotta go back in. Can you make it down from here on your own?” He expected a fight from the engram, or at least some further name calling, but to his surprise received neither of those things.

“Yeah,” Silverhand said simply. “Go. She’d like that.”

River almost smiled, grateful that Silverhand understood at least that much about V’s nature. Instead, he pointed to a construction scaffolding partly covered by a tarp. “Use that; it’s how I got up here earlier today. There’s some old mattresses stacked up by a dumpster in the back that you can use to climb over the wall. And keep V’s head down, or it’ll get blown off.”

Silverhand snorted. “Kid, I was dodgin’ bullets while your grandad was shittin’ diapers. Fuck off.”

River fucked off, his haste making the metal stairs clatter and echo through the stairwell in his wake. The keycard dug lines in his palm from how tightly he held it. There was no way he could save everyone. But he had to try to save everyone he could.

He and V were the same, in that way.


	15. R) Kumbaya Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** Johnny makes a joke about eating disorders because he is a terrible person.
> 
> Hey--if you're still reading, mind doing me a favor and dropping a comment? Things've been pretty quiet around here since the break and I'm starting to worry I've scared everyone off. The main thing bothering me is the fear that I've gone too dark and made people uncomfortable. Any reassurance that that's not the case would be enormously welcome. 
> 
> If that _is_ the case, then I'm so sorry to have caused you distress. This is probably not a good fic for you to read. Shit just gets darker from here. There will still be silly banter and fluffy romance (and smut! bit more of that!), but the angst level is getting steadily cranked up as we go. Gonna be a happy ending, but getting there is gonna hurt.
> 
> Still with me?  
> -KB

### River

River broke into a sprint, sending pebbles and loose dirt skittering from under his boots. The burning asylum was at his back, and he and everyone he’d managed to get out of the cells were scattering into the desert. Arasaka was just about done sweeping up the asylum staff, but any minute they could be out here in the rough, forming search parties to hunt down the escapees. Maybe they wouldn’t have bothered if it was just a few loose lunatics, but surely they’d noticed by now that their “property”--V--was nowhere to be found.

_Speak of the devil._

He came to a halt beside the merc in question, who was half-staggering, half-crawling across the desert floor. River hauled Silverhand up by the shoulder. “Jesus Christ Johnny. What happened?”

V’s body was soot-streaked and reeking of smoke. Silverhand coughed like he was hacking up a lung. “‘Bout that. Went to pay my respects to the good Doc Shipman before we left.”

“Ah.”

“He was already dead.”

“Yep.”

“Looked like he shot himself.”

“He did not.”

“Tch.” Silverhand spat out a wad of phlegm that looked black in the moonlight. “You?”

“You have no idea how fuckin’ badly I wish it had been.” River’s voice came out cold and brimming with fury. He sounded like a stranger to his own ears. “But no. Arasaka paid a call. This Dr. Emi person was pissed that Shipman and his crew were spillin’ classified details about V’s biotics on the net.”

“Fuckin’ ‘Saka, ‘course it was…” Silverhand growled, in a lower register than V could usually reach. “Even when they’re killin’ the right people they do it the wrong way. Too quick.” River shot a sideways glance at Johnny. He didn’t say anything else though, which was for the best, because they really needed to keep moving.

Stumbling through a rocky desert at night, being chased by unknown numbers of armed foes, accompanied by a stubborn-ass gonk who both needed help walking and absolutely wouldn’t accept said help unless he had no choice, was not River’s favorite way to travel. Then the terrain broke up and it all got even more fun, as they clambered over boulders and splashed through ankle-deep streams at the bottom of an arroyo. River fell on a cactus once. Johnny laughed pretty obnoxiously about it for what felt like hours. It was really fucking weird, River reflected, that he could look at the woman he loved, and hate the person wearing her skin so damn much.

“Hear that?” Silverhand had stopped dead, and was looking back the way they had come. The lights of the city were distant smears of color on the horizon.

“Don’t hear anything,” River grumbled, still picking needles out of the skin of his ‘ganic hand.

“Shh-shh,” Silverhand hushed him impatiently, which did not make River want to punch the guy even a little bit less. “They’re sendin’ AVs. Need to hide.”

“How the fuck would you know that?” River folded his arms, unwilling to be impressed.

“‘Cuz everyone in the corpo wars down in Mexico who didn’t know what an AV sounded like from fuckin’ miles away got blown to shit. Christ. C’mon.” Silverhand led the way further down the ravine. He seemed to have a destination in mind.

The water around their ankles was getting deeper, and Johnny veered off the main canyon into a series of side passages, some of which were so narrow they had to turn sideways to slip through. River could hear the AVs now: the distant, whining hum that would turn into a roaring blast of wind when they got closer. He caught a glimpse of searchlights from the aerial craft sweeping across the scrub brush, before the canyon walls rose above his head and cut off his line of sight.

“Sure this is a good idea?” he asked Silverhand as they moved between shadows. “Nowhere to run from here, if they spot us.”

“Better not let ‘em fuckin’ spot us, then,” Silverhand said, with profound condescension. 

River bit back a retort. Sometimes, being the bigger man to keep the peace was really fucking frustrating.

Finally, they found what Johnny seemed to have been looking for. A section of the canyon was undercut, forming a secure hollow in the rock that couldn’t be seen from above. They’d passed a few spots similar to this, but as River looked around, he could see why Johnny would pick this one over the others. A bend in the ravine kept them shielded from view on one side, and a huge boulder amidst a pile of loose scrabble on the other. Once in the hollow, they’d be invisible to anyone who wasn’t standing in the canyon directly in front of them. There was a problem, though.

“Kinda small, Silverhand.”

“I’m well fuckin’ aware.” The engram seemed to be hesitating, flexing V’s hands to crack the knuckles one at a time. “‘Less you wanna do us both a favor and pick up bulimia, puke out half your goddamn useless weight--”

“We’re cuddling. I get it. Believe me, I’m as thrilled by the prospect as you,” River said flatly. 

“I get so much as a whisper, dickwise, that you’re anything less than completely miserable, I’m kickin’ you out and ‘Saka can kill us both.”

“Noted.” River shrugged his coat off and folded it neatly before ducking down into the hollow. He drew his long legs in and pressed back against the rock, feeling the rough grain of it through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. 

Johnny hovered outside still, but the AVs were coming closer. With a curse, he followed suit, tucking V’s body into the hollow as far away from River as he could get. Which was not far.

“Here.” River handed him the folded square of his coat. “Use this for a pillow. Lean on the wall if you don’t wanna lean on me, but get some rest. You--V needs it.”

Silverhand looked for a second like he was gonna argue, but at the mention of V his jaw clamped shut and he practically ripped the coat from River’s grasp. No gratitude, of course, but River wasn’t expecting it. The former badge let his eye drift shut, listening to the distant drone of the AVs passing by, far overhead. He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but what with V missing, he hadn’t exactly been well-rested lately.

He woke up the next morning to a gun in his face.

Once River had absorbed that information, the next thing he noticed was that it wasn’t a corpo-issue weapon. Rather than shiny chrome or matte black steel, the gun was patched together from spare parts and covered in dust. Not unlike the person holding it.

“Yo, Ozzie! Got a couple live ones here.” The guy was built like a tank and tricked out like one too, half his body covered in out-of-date combat hardware. Some of it was definitely Militech; all of it was probably stolen. Judging by the screaming skull painted in turquoise on his jacket with messy strokes, River would bet he ran with the Wraiths.

A woman rounded the bend in the ravine, aiming an assault rifle at Johnny and River. She wore Wraith colors too, though her optics had been replaced by the type of multi-lensed rig favored by Maelstrom. Spider eyes, as River thought of them. Her voice was harsh, augmented to sound robotic. “Can see that, numbskull. Any reason you decided to stand there and holler and wake ‘em up, ‘stead of mindin’ our own business so we can finish doin’ our actual job?”

The huscle seemed indifferent to his companion’s scorn. “Lookit ‘em, Oz. They’re tough. Boss’ll wanna sell ‘em.”

The woman’s lens array glittered blue as she ran a scan over the two in the hollow. “Brax, you fucking gonk. Yeah, maybe we can use the guy, but the chick is borged to fuck. Too much trouble to keep. Best kill her and sell what’s left to the scavs for parts.” She readied her rifle, some mechanism within the weapon whirring to life.

“Woah, hey, just chill a second, please--” River started to move, but the guy pressed the pistol to his head hard enough that the barrel dug into his skin. River swallowed, his brain racing in time with his pounding heart. “She’s my output,” he said in desperate improvisation. “She won’t mess with you as long as you’ve got me.” His gaze flicked to Silverhand, who was transparently vibrating with rage. _Come on,_ River silently begged the engram, _sell this! We can’t let them kill V!_

He could have sagged with relief, had he not been uncomfortably aware of the gun at his head, when Silverhand finally spoke. “...don’t hurt him, please!” Johnny said, pitching V’s voice about an octave higher than it should have been and inserting a breathy tremble. “I’ll do anything, I won’t make trouble, I swear! Please, I’m begging you...” V’s eyes widened and filled with tears. 

_Veering just left of porn now, Silverhand._ River held his breath, hoping that the performance landed with its audience, even if to him it sounded fake and so unlike V as to be laughable.

The guy with the gun did actually laugh, but it seemed like he bought it. “Hear that? She begs real fuckin’ pretty, Oz; you could learn a thing or two from her.”

“In your worst fucking nightmares, assclown.” Oz didn’t look impressed, but she wasn’t firing on them either. “Fine. Load ‘em both in the truck; the boss can make the call what to do with ‘em.”

In another scenario, being marched along the dry riverbed at gunpoint might have provided an opportunity to escape. River had no doubt that, on an average day, he and V could have outfought and overpowered these chucklefucks and any six of their closest friends. But V was… well, Johnny was in bad shape. 

Livid purple bruises littered V’s skin, along with marks from needles and electrodes, and there were dark hollows under the eyes. Silverhand was walking on his own for the moment, but he staggered and dragged V’s feet like every step pained him. With a start, River realized that was probably the case, because V wasn’t wearing any _fucking shoes_. He hadn’t noticed last night in the darkness, but that meant that Johnny had come all the way from the asylum across the sharp rocks and stinging sand _barefoot._

_Jesus fuck._

Once they were led out of the ravine’s shade, River felt the heat land on his shoulders like a weight. The truck they were steered towards was an 18-wheeler with a corrugated shipping container loaded onto the back. The Wraiths checked them for weapons (Johnny obviously had nothing, and River hadn’t carried a gun in weeks, since he gave his piece to V) before shutting them in the container and throwing the bolt.

It was dark, except for the bright lines the sun drew through the container’s seams, and infinitely hotter than it was outside. River started to sweat immediately. The place smelled musty and organic, like living creatures packed close, but it was empty except for several dozen large, clear plastic barrels of water. The ground rumbled and shifted as the truck started to life, and Johnny chose that moment to tackle River to the floor.

They landed hard, all the breath in River’s body leaving him in a grunt. Silverhand swung a fist at his jaw, and River jerked his head aside to deflect it into a glancing blow. Still, he felt it.

“What the fuck--” he growled, and reached out to catch V’s wrist when Johnny aimed another punch at his face. Unfortunately, that left his side exposed, and the engram drove the other fist into River’s ribs in a series of violent punctuations.

“You. Fuckin’. Fell. Asleep?!” Rage and disbelief warred in Johnny’s tone. River twisted to protect his side, trying to wrestle the psycho rockerboy off without further damage to V.

“So the fuck did you!” he panted, lungs still less than half full.

“Yeah, because _you_ wanted to play goddamn chivalrous and let V rest, which means that _you_ were the one supposed to be on goddamn watch!”

“This ain’t the fuckin’ army! Why the hell would you expect some--some protocol like that?!”

“Because we _clearly fucking needed it,_ you asshole!” Silverhand bent down to scream in his ear, and River winced. Another blow landed across his cheekbone, and that didn’t feel great either. “Or ain’t you noticed yet that some punk-ass wannabe outlaws took us prisoner ‘thout so much as twitchin’ a trigger? Now we’re headed who-the-fuck-knows where, to kowtow to some bandit shitlord, surrounded by who-knows-how-many more of these assholes, and if y’think gettin’ away from that’ll be any easier than takin’ out those two gonks with guns woulda been in the first place, your skull’s stuffed with cat food and wet shit for brains!” Silverhand was breathing hard after that tirade, glaring absolute knives and fire at River.

Cautiously, River let go of V’s wrist, and was encouraged when the engram didn’t immediately try to punch him again. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You’re right that I should’ve kept watch.” Privately, he’d been kicking himself for that very mistake since he woke up, but damn if it wasn’t torture to admit that to Silverhand. “I don’t know what kind of hell we’ve fallen into. But we can get out of it. We can get _her_ out of it, and free, and safe, if we work together. All of us.” River let the earnest conviction he felt bleed into his voice and onto his face. Silverhand suddenly wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Christ, you’re pathetic,” the engram muttered in a gravelly undertone. “Bad as she is, with that kumbaya shit. You two fuckin’ deserve each other.”

River chose to take that as a compliment. “Silverhand. Need you on board with this. You in?”

Silverhand blew out a sigh of disgust, raking a hand through V’s cropped hair. “Fuck you. Yeah, I’m in.”

The moment of accord had barely settled before the two of them became aware, independently and at the same time, that V’s very warm, very _feminine_ curves were pressed taut against River’s body, and a response was forming.

Silverhand tumbled off River with a yelp that would have been hilarious in other circumstances, and scrambled backwards until he hit the opposite side of the container. “Fuckin’ thing touched my leg, what the _fuck_ \--” he hissed.

Groaning as the movement stirred his new bruises, River hauled himself in an upright slump. He couldn’t quite manage to feel sympathetic to Silverhand’s plight at the moment. “You’re real uptight about cocks for a guy who used to have one, you know that?”

“That’s _different_ ,” Silverhand insisted, glaring death once again. “What the fuck is wrong with you, anyway?!”

“Me? You’re the one who _threw yourself on top of me_ \--”

“So I could beat the shit out of you! Who gets a half-chub from that?!”

Despite the pain in his jaw, River smirked. “Choom, if you say you’ve never fantasized ‘bout a beautiful woman holdin’ you down and havin’ her way with you, you’re either lyin’ or your sex life is boring as shit.”

Unable or unwilling to parry the accusation, Silverhand lapsed into silence and glares. River leaned back on his elbows, staring up at the sunlight leaking through the cracks in the door. Seemed like they were heading east, deeper into the Badlands. Without much hope of it working, he tried to place a call to Joss. No luck; the sat service didn’t reach this far out into nowhere.

“Got any comms?” he asked Johnny, after a bit. “Mine are scop, but V might have--”

“No.” The flatness in his voice was a stark contrast to his earlier fury, prompting River to look over at the engram curiously. One knee was drawn up to V’s chest, the other leg left sprawling, and Silverhand was huddled down in River’s coat with arms folded tight. “No comms. Pricks at the funny farm installed some jammer shit.”

“Explains why you weren’t returning my calls. I asked so nicely, too.” River’s tone was friendly, extending an invitation to mess with him, but Silverhand didn’t take the bait. Didn’t say anything at all. River tried again to draw him out of whatever he was stewing in. “How is V? Still asleep?”

It worked, but not in the way River intended. Silverhand’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and he practically spat the words like they were poison. “V’s fuckin’ fine. She’s dandy. Can’t see or feel or hear a thing, all tucked away safe’n’sound, unlike us sorry sons of bitches.”

River frowned. He didn’t like where this was going. “But… if we need her help…”

Silverhand’s lips split in a wide, cheerless grin. “Then we’re fucked in the ass, ‘cuz I have no fuckin’ idea how to get her out here.”

River froze. “Are you saying--”

“Yeah. Me an’ her--we’re stuck like this.”


	16. R) Many-Splendored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW so much love!! and support!!! in the comments! THANK YOU. Anxiety-brain is well and truly vanquished for the time being, thanks to all for your help. I'm so glad you're here and that I get to share this story with you. Hopefully you are not tired of me being mushy at you because that is 100% non-negotiable and will continue indefinitely.
> 
> Okay serious face on, time for the **content warnings:** held-at-gunpoint coercion to sexualized activity, specifically kissing & nudity. References to V's traumatic past, which include her being a victim of human trafficking.
> 
> Paul Craven is an NPC in the game, kind of--he's the target of an organized crime NCPD scanner hustle (the one you find if you run straight out into the desert from the asylum). No dialogue or interactions possible other than killing him and looting his corpse, so his (awful) personality here is all from me. Ozzie, Brax, and Franco are all OCs, and they're all awful also.
> 
> -KB

### River

“Stuck?” River gaped at Silverhand, fumbling for a mental grasp on this fresh calamity. “It can’t be--it’s not permanent though, right?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Silverhand blew up at him. “I’m a fuckin’ program on a chip that’s overwritin’ her DNA and causin’ some fuckin’ ‘cascade failure effect’, whatever that shit means; V’s a former corpse that started walkin’ and talkin’ again; neither of us know shit about how we got here or how any of this works! ‘Cuz it shouldn’t fuckin’ work! We should both be fucking _dead_ , but since we ain’t yet we both wanted life to mean somethin’! Not to spend it--wastin’ away in some fuckin’ hole! _Shit_.”

“Means something to me,” River said quietly. 

Johnny laughed bitterly. “Fuck you, Ward. Seriously--I mean this from the tar-black depths of my shriveled soul--go fuck yourself.”

“Fuck you, Silverhand,” River said, but without real rancor. He was starting to get a grasp on how Johnny functioned. The guy had no idea how to be anything but angry, whatever it was he was actually feeling. Scared, lonely, sad… angry was easier than all of those. 

River knew anger pretty well.

“Seriously. V means something to me. And to my sister Joss, and her kids. And to Vik, and Misty, and Claire, and to a whole lot of other people. Some of ‘em might not even know her name, but she’s the reason they’re breathin’, or holdin’ their loved ones close.” He thought of the Dixons and the way they had looked at each other. “We both know what the world does to people like her. How bad it wants to break ‘em down, beat the hope and the heart out of ‘em. Every day of V’s life is her flippin’ that world a giant fuckin’ middle finger and tellin’ it to eat shit.” 

Silverhand made a sound that might have been a cough, or a snort of amusement.

River kept going. “She needs you. Same way she needs me. Not to save her or to give her meanin’--just to have her back while she finds her way. And she will find it, Johnny. All we have to do is be fuckin’ ready when she does.”

“Hn.” Silverhand grunted. He didn’t sound convinced, but he also wasn’t sidling up to the edge of a total psychotic break anymore. After a minute, he offered up some intel. “Pills back at V’s place. Blue ones. Some kind of blockers--they let her shut me out. Think if I take ‘em, might put her back in the driver’s seat.”

River restrained himself from shouting about how _that would have been nice to fucking know earlier, Johnny,_ and let his frustration ebb into a sigh. “Good. Got a plan. Now we just gotta make it back there ‘thout gettin’ sixed by Wraiths or runnin’ into Arasaka.”

“Fuckin’ cake,” the engram muttered sardonically. He tipped V’s head back to scowl at the ceiling like it owed him money. River stayed quiet, pretty sure he’d stretched his luck--and Johnny’s tolerance--about to the snapping point. The rest of the ride was miserably hot, coating their skin in sweat and their throats in dust, but at least they hated each other’s guts a little less. Or a little more, but in a good way? It was hard to tell, with Johnny.

There were an awful lot more guns pointed at them the next time the door opened. Then there were bags over their heads, and zip-ties around their wrists, and a blind, stumbling walk across unknown territory. They were still in the desert; River could tell that much by the crunch and shift of sand under his boots. But they seemed to have arrived at an outpost of community--some people jeered at the prisoners as they passed, others ignored them in favor of continuing their own conversations. There were more people a little further off. A lot more--dozens, maybe a hundred? Snatches of music, arguments, childish cries: a cacophony of humanity drifted to River on the wind. 

Whoever was holding him by his upper arm dug in their grip and shoved him forward. “Stairs,” an unfamiliar voice said by his ear, sounding bored. River barely processed the word before the architectural feature introduced itself abruptly to his foot. He would have fallen, if not for the grip on his arm.

“Thanks for the head's up,” he muttered in irritation, beginning the extraordinarily awkward process of trying to climb a flight of stairs blindfolded and without use of his hands. It did make him feel a bit better to hear Silverhand cursing and struggling along behind, no more adept or composed than he was. Significantly less, in fact.

The stairs went through an endless series of switchbacks, leading them much higher up than River had been anticipating. The wind was louder, whistling through the fabric over his head and making the whole structure they stood on creak in an unsettling fashion. Finally he went to climb another step and almost tripped over its absence. They’d reached the top. For better or worse.

He was manhandled further out onto what seemed like a partially sheltered platform, judging by the wind dying down a bit, and he still couldn’t fucking see. Evidently their presence had been explained and arranged before they got there, since no introductions were forthcoming before a new male voice said, “Show me the girl.”

River heard Silverhand growl as he was dragged closer to the voice. Presumably the bag came off, because the man in charge laughed. “Fuck! Your face’ll get stuck that way if you ain’t careful, princess.” 

Silverhand didn’t reply. Definitely glaring. The man, though, hummed in thought. “Hmm… well ain’t this a fuckin’ trip. I know you from somewhere. Not the city--you’ve got nomad blood, easy to see. Clan?” No response. A thud like metal hitting meat, and a grunt from Silverhand. “I said--what’s your clan, princess?”

“Don’t have one,” the engram finally said through gritted teeth. “All dead.”

“A real shame. A real fuckin’ shame, ain’t it boys?” There were a few sycophantic murmurs, and River suppressed a groan. _We’ve got us a fuckin’ showman here._ The gang leaders who ran their turf like they were the big star of a three-ring circus were always a bitch to deal with. Couldn’t be negotiated with sensibly, couldn’t be expected to see reason unless it came packaged in applause from their toadies. River was not a fan of gangers in general, but he fucking hated this type.

“Well, maybe if I introduce myself it’ll jog your memory,” the man continued. “Paul Craven, of the Raffen Shiv. Charmed.” Perfectly friendly, perfectly welcoming.

“Hi, Paul. Eat a dick.” Silverhand was less diplomatic. Another thud. Silverhand started coughing, and something wet hit the floor.

“Y’know, I think it’s coming back to me. Where I’ve seen you before. Now that you’re bleeding you look a lot more familiar. Ever run with a guy called Franco?”

“Not that I... recall.” Silverhand’s breathing was labored and V’s voice was made harsh by pain.

“Oh, you’d remember Franco. He makes an impression. In fact, I think he made one on you. Right… here.” Silverhand snarled like a feral dog, and there was the sound of a brief scuffle, that ended in Craven’s laughter. “Hah! I fuckin’ knew it! You were one of his! Ah, brings back memories… good fuckin’ times,” the man said, rife with fond nostalgia. “Franco was a class act. He still around, Lou?”

“Think so, sir,” said the crony holding one of River’s arms. “Ridin’ with the Welshman convoy outta Snake Nation, or was last year.”

“Oughtta ring him up. No doubt it’d give the old man a kick in the taint to see you again, m’dear.” Craven’s tone was practically gleeful, like he’d found a treasure or a lost pet. “What was it he called you…? Terrible with names, Franco, preferred to use numbers with you girls. I’m picturing you, all in a line… you were… Five, I think?”

“I’m V.”

“Is that what you go by nowadays? You realize that’s just a fancy way of saying Five, right? Franco was big on that Latin shit. Sweet of you to remember.”

“That’s... not why.”

“Well, Five--V, excuse me--welcome to the camp! Delighted to have you here. All goes well, you’ll be enjoying our hospitality in no time, but first, a few matters to clarify. Let’s see the gonk.” 

Abruptly, the hood was ripped off River’s head, and he found himself flinching in the sudden sunlight. 

“Huh. All right then, no accounting for taste,” Craven said. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, all River could make out of the man was that he was tall and broad and had a bright green scarf tied around his neck. There were at least a half-dozen other vague humanoid shapes looming about the platform, watching the spectacle--all armed.

Silverhand was upright but swaying unsteadily, V’s back to River. Craven grabbed the engram by the shoulder to turn him around. “So, V, they tell me this is your input. Congrats, etcetera, love is a many-splendored thing. Lou?” 

The goon holding River’s arm let go, and Craven strode forward. The Wraith leader swung a heavy, metal-plated fist into River’s face, and a firework of pain and dizziness exploded in his skull. He could taste warm blood trickling from his nose to his lips. A hard shove to the chest made him stagger back a couple steps--dangerously close to the platform's edge. He heard the sound of a rifle being cocked.

“Cut her loose,” Craven said. “They tell me you’ll do anything to keep him safe, yeah? Well--can’t have a dangerous little murder machine like you running around camp ‘less I’ve got a finger on the kill switch.” 

Gradually, River’s vision swam back into focus. A goon was stepping back from Silverhand after cutting the plastic ties from V’s wrists. As soon as he was free, Silverhand lunged at Craven, grabbing him by the collar--and the Wraith boss chuckled. 

“Feisty. Just like I remember, Five. But think it through: you kill me, Lou kills your input, the rest of my boys kill you. So much easier for everyone if you just behave yourself, hm?” 

V’s shoulders were shaking with effort, even though Craven didn’t appear to be attempting to struggle. Finally Silverhand dropped him with a hiss of frustration. 

Craven smirked. “Attagirl.” He adjusted his wrinkled jacket. “But I’m gonna need more from ya. Need to be absolutely sure you won’t try anything. Ironclad, you understand?”

“I swear,” Silverhand said, cold and hollow as a tomb.

“Just words. Show me how much this gonk’s life means to you.” Craven folded his arms, his calculating gaze fixed on V’s body. “Strip.”

A few whoops and whistles from the peanut gallery followed the command, and River lurched forward. “V--” he gasped, but was halted by the cold barrel of a rifle pressing into the underside of his jaw, forcing him to tilt his head back. He was getting really fucking sick of guns.

“No commentary. Simple fucking choice, V.” Craven said casually. “Either you do what fuckin’ I say, when fuckin’ I say it, or your input’s brain splatters ‘cross the deck, closely followed by yours. Choose.”

Wordlessly, Silverhand shrugged free of River’s coat and yanked off the thin institutional scrub top V was wearing. Blood and bruises, scars and tattoos turned V’s bare skin into something that looked more modern art canvas than human. A set of dog tags hung around V’s neck, slightly blackened by smoke. Silverhand made no move to remove them. He took off the matching scrub pants, and there was nothing underneath. No shame or any sign of vulnerability in Silverhand’s bearing. He held V’s head high, lip curling in disgust.

 _Absolutely goddamn majestic,_ River thought. He honestly didn’t know if it was V or Silverhand he wanted to hug more at the moment. This was all so deeply fucked, but River knew with bone-deep certainty that this inflicted indignity couldn’t touch what really mattered. He could see Silverhand knew it too.

The Wraiths were just happy to see a naked girl. More cheers, more hollers. Craven stepped close to Silverhand. “Smart choice. Always thought you seemed like a smart one.” He gripped V’s chin, tilting her face to examine the two gnarled scars that cut from the corner of her mouth. One ran to her temple, crossing over her cheekbone, while the other reached nearly to her jaw under her ear. “You used to be prettier, though.”

“Cut myself shaving,” Silverhand spat. Utter disdain was written in every line of V’s features.

Craven noticed. “You’re gonna do one more thing for me, Five.” His grin was pure sadism. “Give me a kiss. Make it sweet--no teeth, now. Make me believe you really _want_ this.” His arm fell around V’s waist and pulled her body roughly against him. “Pretend it’s your friend over there, if you want. Don’t see why you would; clearly I’m a strict upgrade, but eye of the beholder and all that.” A few of the goons laughed at their boss’s joke, but Craven’s attention remained fixed on his captive. “Sell me on it and you both live. For now.” 

The ultimatum was clear. River found he wasn’t breathing. 

Silverhand reached out to caress the back of Craven’s neck, and the gesture was so achingly familiar that River could almost feel the touch of V’s hand. He didn’t want to watch, but the gun under his chin meant he couldn’t look away, and closing his eyes felt childish. Disrespectful, somehow. Lips met and locked, a little feminine moan of pleasure in V’s throat. Her hand ran softly along Craven’s smooth jawline as the kiss deepened, the pulse of it shifting back and forth between them, like two people saving each other from drowning. Finally, Craven pulled back with a laugh. 

“Fuckin’ sold!” he declared, to shouts of approval from his cronies. “Hear that? They’re cheerin’ your performance! Like the old days, eh?” He smacked a hand across V’s ass. “Go on and take a bow.”

Silverhand bowed stiffly, like a Japanese businessman, to more laughter and even some applause. River seethed with secondhand humiliation, trying to hold onto the certainty he’d had earlier that none of this shit would matter in the end. As long as they were alive, and together--him and V and apparently Silverhand too--everything else could go fuck itself. 

_Everyone here can burn in fucking hell._

The bags went back on their heads, and they were ushered down the stairs, Silverhand clutching the discarded clothes to V’s chest. River heard Craven’s jubilant voice from above. “Ozzie, Brax--preem fuckin’ work, bringin’ her here. Double booze rations this month, both of ya. Oh, and make sure word gets ‘round to the rest of the boys not to try rubbin’ their bits on that one... she might snap their fuckin’ necks. Christ, one of Franco’s fuckin’ dolls, after all these years...”

_Dolls?_


	17. R) Ayuda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note about pronouns! River mentally refers to Johnny-as-V as both 'he' and 'she', depending on which aspect of them he's considering, and whether he associates it more with Johnny (eyes, facial expressions, voice tones) or V (everything else). Hopefully this is clear from context, but if any part is confusing please let me know!
> 
> Lupe and Miguel are OCs. My Spanish skills are about on par with River's, so there are some intentional mistakes but there may be unintentional ones as well, for which I apologize.
> 
> **Content warnings:** more discussion of human trafficking; River has a victim-blamey thought about the kiss last chapter but recognizes that it's wrong.
> 
> -KB

### River

Down the stairs, across the uneven desert terrain, closer and closer to the noise of a crowd River had heard earlier, until they were within it. Hoods came off and someone slashed the zip-ties from his wrists. Vision blurred by light, he could still see the gangers training guns on them. 

“Get movin’,” one of the goons grunted, firing a shot at their feet. The bullet sent up a spray of sand, and both River and Johnny jumped back. The goon snickered. One of the others muttered something about a waste of ammo. “What? It was funny!” he protested.

Exchanging a look, River and Johnny turned away from the firing squad and began to walk. They weren’t followed.

They found themselves in the midst of something like a refugee camp. Housing was scattered around randomly, mostly tents, but in some places old shipping containers like the one they’d been locked in earlier had been stacked up to form shelters. People were everywhere--talking to their neighbors, grilling food, beating the dust out of their clothes, mending tents, playing games on grids scratched in the dirt. There were even a few kids chasing each other around. For all the activity, though, the mood was grim. Voices seemed too quiet and movements too slow. Most eyes that gazed at the two newcomers flicked quickly away, and those that lingered made River nervous.

“What… is this place?” he mumbled, licking his cracked lips.

Silverhand had dressed again as they walked, pulling River’s coat on over V’s scrubs despite the stifling heat of midday. “‘S it look like, _Officer_?” His tone was sarcastic but he mostly just sounded tired. “Meat market. Human trafficking hub. Nomads snatch up runaways from the city, refugees from the shit down south--hell, even smaller nomad clans who won’t put up too much fight. Pack ‘em in cattle cars, ship ‘em straight up the ass of nowhere to a miserable shithole like this. Buyers know the spots and come by regular. Mostly agricorps and minin’ outfits--anyone thinkin’ it’s cheaper to buy someone once than pay ‘em a livin’ wage.”

“Fuckin’ inhuman,” River growled, his fist clenching.

“Dunno ‘bout that; seems pretty fuckin’ human to me.” Silverhand swept out an arm in a flourish. “Ladies an’ gentlemen, gonks and assholes, may we proudly present, Shit an’ Misery: The Musical. Ticket’ll only cost you your soul or, better yet--someone else’s.”

“You’re a real cynical bastard, Silverhand.”

“I set off a nuke that killed twelve thousand people, Ward. Wasn’t because I was filled with hope and warm fuzzies for my fellow man.”

Hearing him say the number like that, stark and unapologetic, made it real to River in a way he’d only abstractly considered before. V had called Johnny a mass-murderer, and it had been part of a joke, but it was also the literal truth. Twelve thousand killed instantly in the blast--not to mention the three-quarters of a million who had eventually died of their injuries or some other illness or deprivation caused by the catastrophe. River struggled with a response--he was angry, but _twelve thousand people_ was too much even on its own, there was no anger or sorrow big enough for that number--and all he could come up with was, “Why?”

Silverhand didn’t laugh, at least. Just looked away. “Keep askin’ myself the same. Used to think--wasn’t my fault, ‘Saka made me do it. What they do to people. What they did to Alt.” He didn’t bother to explain who Alt was, but River could ballpark it. “Had to be stopped. Any means necessary, yeah? That whole crock of shit.” A lifetime, a universe of bitterness was distilled into Silverhand’s clipped sentences. “Does why even matter anymore? Did it ever?”

River let the question rest in the air for a while, as they wandered aimlessly through the camp. “I dunno,” he said at last. “But V thinks so.”

“Heh. Yeah… she would.”

The silence between them became vaguely companionable, after that. River wondered if he should say something about what had happened earlier, on the platform--something like _‘you okay?’_ Or _‘that was fucked up’_ , or _‘thanks for saving both our lives’_ , or even _‘did you have to kiss him for that long, you asshole?’_ But he couldn’t imagine Silverhand would appreciate being reminded of any of it, no matter how well-intentioned or concerned River was.

They walked the full length of the camp, and started to circle back around near the outside edge. There was no wall or fence to mark the boundary, just a line of bright blue spray paint drawn on the ground to enclose the whole inhabited area. Nothing touched the line, and no one crossed over.

The Wraiths seemed to have a compound a little ways off from the tent city. There was a large raised platform in the center, big enough for an AV to land, and a control tower--presumably where their recent encounter with Craven had taken place. Several big-rig trucks and a lot more shipping containers surrounded a long concrete bunker built near the base of the tower. Figures moved among the trucks, loading or stocking goods. At least twenty people, but it was hard to be precise from a distance. The compound looked sophisticated enough to support two or three times that number, easily. There were a few more Wraiths at a larger tent in the middle of the prisoner camp--all well-armed, but not even trying to keep an eye on their captives’ comings and goings.

“No fences. Hardly any guards,” River observed. 

“Don’t need ‘em.” Silverhand pointed to a signpost stuck in the sand, just over the blue line. “Minefield. Anyone tries to run, they’ll be extra-chunky bits long before they get the chance to die of dehydration. Guards probably have their own secret routes through; must be what the blindfolds were about.”

“So we’re gonna need to make a friend who knows the way. Lovely.” River sighed in disgust and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the shoulder of his t-shirt.

“Dunno why you’re bitchin’; I’m clearly the frontman here. Doin’ the heavy liftin’ with our public. Got charisma oozin’ outta my pores, whereas you… you’re just oozin’.” Silverhand grinned, baring his teeth. There was blood on them.

“Like you’re any less of a fucking mess,” River grumbled. He glanced down at V’s bare feet. “Wanna borrow my boots for a while?”

“Careful, kid, you know what chivalry gets ya.”

“Fuck off. Want ‘em or not?”

“Nah.” Silverhand tugged River’s coat tighter around him, like he was cold. “V’s got that sub-dermal armor weave, not to mention fuckin’ callouses an inch thick.”

River was pretty sure the engram still needed shoes, but considering everything they’d trudged through in the past 24 hours and that Silverhand wasn’t leaving bloody footprints in their wake, he decided to let it be. Even with the alleged foot protection, though, Silverhand couldn’t walk much further. Exhaustion, heat, and the comedown from whatever drugs they'd dosed him with at the asylum were taking their toll. He was listing to the side, leaning hard into River without seeming to realize it.

“Fuck,” River swore when Johnny stumbled, catching V’s body under the arms and dragging them both a little off the path, into the shade cast by a tent. “Fuck,” he repeated, when snapping his fingers in front of V’s face and slapping her cheek lightly got no response. “C’mon, Silverhand… V, if you can hear me… can’t do this shit on my own…”

“She needs water,” said a voice about three feet to River’s left. 

His gaze snapped over to the dark-haired woman who was crouching at the entrance of the tent they’d taken shelter beside. Her expression was sympathetic, and for the first time in hours River felt a surge of hope. “Uh--yeah. Yes, please. Can you help us?” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand English.”

“Wha--?” Startled by her presence, it took River a moment to backtrack and realize that the woman had spoken Spanish in her initial statement. His translator implant helpfully converted her words for him, but the fluent multilingual communication common in the city was impossible if she didn’t have an implant of her own. _Shit. What Spanish do I know?_ For some reason all he could remember at that instant were the slurs the Valentinos used to throw at him when he was on the force--not exactly relevant and likely detrimental to the current situation.

“Um. Lo siento,” he tried. “No habla... hablo español bien…” She wasn’t looking at him like he was completely insane, so that was encouraging. “Yo soy River… esta V…”

“My name is Lupe,” the woman said, with a small smile.

River broke out into a relieved grin. “Hola, Lupe.” 

“Hello, River. Do you two need help?” 

_Help._ River seized on the word he hadn’t been able to remember. “Sí, _ayuda._ Por favor… agua?”

The woman nodded and reached out, touching River’s shoulder with gentle understanding in her eyes. “Today, I have enough to share. Come, sit.” 

She led them around to the other side of the tent, where a thick blanket was spread on the rocky ground with a tarp set up above for shade. The blanket was brightly colored with variegated rainbow stripes, and a toddler in a cloth diaper was sitting on the corner, playing with the fringe at the edge. River stripped his coat off of V, and folded it into a pillow to put under her head as he got her settled on the blanket. Lupe went into the tent for a moment and emerged with two bottles of water, both of which she handed to River with a caution. “Not too fast, or you’ll get sick.”

“Gracias,” River murmured, hoping he’d be able to find a way later to communicate to the woman just how much he owed her. For the moment, he opened one bottle and took a couple of sips, fighting the urge to swill the whole thing down his cracked, dry throat. He raised V’s head with one hand and held the bottle to her lips with the other, pouring just a tiny bit in her mouth. She swallowed automatically, and River felt a tightness in his chest start to loosen. He fed her half the bottle like that, a little at a time, until she turned her head and rolled over on her side, letting out a small snore. Or maybe Silverhand did. Whoever it was, it was a relief. River sat back and drank more water.

“Is she your lover?” Lupe asked, hefting the toddler up on her lap.

River smiled at the word he knew. “Sí. Mi amor.” He had no idea how he would explain their relationship if Silverhand decided to start punching him again when he woke up, but he’d cross that overpass when they got there.

“You can understand me, yes? Even though you don’t speak Spanish. You have one of those translators.”

“Sí. Yo… yo comprendo?” River shrugged, unsure of the conjugation. Seemed to work out, though, because Lupe was nodding.

“I have a favor to ask you, River. Not that I don’t wish I could help everyone who faints next to my tent, but… there are things I need help with too.”

River didn’t know the right words, but he beckoned her to go on.

“When the sun sets, they distribute the rations. It can get… a little ugly. They hand supplies out until they’re gone, no organization, no checking to make sure people don’t take more than their share… they fire guns in the air if a fight breaks out in front of them, but other than that they barely pay attention. If you want a full ration for your family, you have to wade into the mob and take it. Those of us who don’t want to risk being crushed have to settle for less than our share. Sometimes almost nothing--a handful of protein bars to last the week.” Her mouth set in a hard line. “I’m not afraid to fight to keep me and Miguel fed. But I’m not strong. Often what I have gets taken from me no matter how hard I try to hold onto it. Can you help me tonight?”

River nodded at her and smiled, glad to have the opportunity to return a kindness so soon. “Sí. Ayuda. No problemo.”

There was a groan from V. Silverhand, rather. He rolled over and looked up at River through narrowed eyes. “‘No problemo’? Christ.” He propped himself up on one elbow enough to peer over River at Lupe. “My friend is an idiot who doesn’t speak Spanish, but what he means is he’ll help you and he’s very happy to have the chance to repay you for your kindness.” All in fluent Spanish, because of fucking course _he_ spoke Spanish. “I’m very grateful to you also.”

Lupe’s eyes lit up and she smiled, bouncing Miguel on her knee. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, V.” She couldn’t have seen the way Johnny twitched at the name, since River blocked most of her view. Not as bad as he twitched when she added, “Your boyfriend is very handsome.”

River covered his face with his palm and groaned, which made both of the girls fucking _giggle_. Silverhand quickly coughed and attempted a recovery. “You can have him. Believe me, he’s useless.”

“Cruelty, thy name is woman,” River muttered.

“Fuck off,” Silverhand shot back in English. “You’re just pissed ‘cuz you didn’t think of snoggin’ V while I was unconscious.”

“I would never--how come you speak _Spanish_ , anyway?!”

“Pro tip: if you ever wanna know how I know anything, and the potential answers include ‘Mexico’ and/or ‘this weird guy at a bar while I was drunk’--it’s one of those. Sometimes both.”

“Thanks for the intel. Go back to sleep; you look like shit.”

“Hn.” Silverhand didn’t argue, which meant he was probably near death. 

Lupe was practically beaming at the pair of them, even though she hadn’t understood a word. “You fight like my parents.” 

Johnny groaned, and River nearly choked. He started to apologize when he got his breath back, but Lupe shook her head. “Don’t be sorry, it’s nice. Reminds me of them, and how much they loved each other.”

There really was no good response to that in any language. River settled for what he hoped was a warm smile, and a gulp of water.

_Fuck._


	18. R) Murdered by Lesbians

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** *John Mulaney voice* "this is gonna get playfully misogynistic but also kinda misandrist", Johnny gets a little kink-shamey.
> 
> Enjoy the calm before the shitshow. :D
> 
> -KB

### River

It was almost fully dark by the time River and Lupe returned to the tent, carrying boxes of supplies. They’d made a good team: River had waded into the mob, his height and build assuring that nobody would knock him down or steal from him, and Lupe had hovered on the outskirts, making deals with her neighbors in the impromptu trade market that materialized once the rations had been distributed. They had enough for the week for all four of them, if they were careful.

Silverhand had slept most of the day, but woke up to watch Miguel while the other two adults were gone. There was a small fire-pit built from rocks near the tent entrance, and Silverhand had gotten a blaze going. Warm, flickering orange light made a welcoming circle of safety and odd hominess. River helped Lupe get the supplies squared away, before sitting down on the rainbow-striped blanket beside Silverhand with a couple of MREs.

“Cheers,” he said, handing the engram one of the packaged meals.

“Speakin’ of Mexico. This shit’s probably as old as I am.” Silverhand flipped the MRE over, examining the date printed on the foil. “‘Tween this and the slop at the nuthouse, kinda makes a guy yearn for the days he didn’t have a mouth.”

“Everybody yearns for the days you didn’t have a mouth, Johnny.” River ripped open his meal and started eating. It wasn’t good, but it was food. Lupe and Miguel came out of the tent to sit by the fire too, sharing one ration pack between them.

After dinner, Lupe and Silverhand fell into conversation. It turned out Lupe played the guitar--or used to, back home, when she had a guitar--and soon they were discussing technique, inspirations, and legends. Silverhand picked up a dry branch from the stack of scavenged firewood and started strumming it like it was an instrument to demonstrate some chord progressions. Miguel shyly toddled over to River and stuck out his arms.

“Hey, buddy,” River murmured. He shot a glance at Lupe, to make sure it was okay, and she gave him a smile and a nod. He picked up the boy with a grin, hoisting him high in the air and making him giggle. “Hola, Miguel. Esta bien?”

Being an uncle to Joss’s kids was one of the best damn things about his life, far as River was concerned. He’d missed them like crazy when he and Joss had drifted apart. By the time they were back in touch, Monique had gone from about Miguel’s age to a fully formed, walking, talking miniature person. River adored his niece exactly as she was, but he felt a little sad sometimes to have missed so much. It was nice to be able to make a kid laugh just by pulling a dumb face or bouncing him around.

Miguel was especially fascinated by River’s cybernetic eye. He kept reaching out to touch it, chubby hands grasping at chrome and smooth glass. River didn’t mind and didn’t flinch, humming a bit of singsong nonsense as the toddler fiddled with a knob that made his vision go a little out of focus. He could fix it later.

When Miguel lunged for the eye, with every apparent intention of trying to fit it in his mouth, River finally pried the kid off with a chuckle. “Less tasty than it looks, I promise. How about a high five, huh?” With one hand he kept the child steady in his wobbling stance, and held the other palm out flat, bringing it to meet Miguel’s palm in a gentle tap. “Just like that. Now you try.”

Miguel looked away, tossing his full head of curls, suddenly shy again. River tapped their palms together in another demonstration. “What do you think? You wanna give me a high-five?” he teased the kid warmly. Miguel gave a brief shriek that was either excitement or a war cry, and slapped his tiny hand into River’s enormous one. 

“Nice one, kid!” River exclaimed with enthusiasm, as several follow-up high-fives were delivered. “That one too! Yeah! You got it!” In a pause, River curled his hand into a fist and offered it to the kid. “Wanna try a fist bump next?” Miguel giggled and slapped his open palm onto River’s knuckles. “Like the energy; we can iron out the method as we go,” River said, still smiling.

Lupe took Miguel and went to bed not long after that, banking the fire down to embers before disappearing into the tent. River and Silverhand were left to stretch out on the blanket beneath the tarp. Fortunately the blanket was thick enough to protect them from the rocky ground below, and big enough that they didn’t have to touch. 

It was cold in the desert at night, and River was in a t-shirt. He was starting to doubt he’d ever get his coat back. No denying that Silverhand--in V’s body--was in worse shape than he was, though, so River just folded his arms around himself and huddled up, trying to keep as much warmth in his core as he could. 

They were near enough to the edge of the camp that if he peered between some tents, River could see out into the empty wastes, all the way to the horizon. Stars were hovering there: a rare sight in the trailer park, and completely invisible in the city proper. Pollution made the atmosphere too thick for their faint light to shine through--everywhere but nowhere places like this.

“We have a problem.” From the darkness nearby came Silverhand’s low voice.

River sighed. “Is it Lupe?”

“You know damn well it’s Lupe, and the rest of these sorry bastards.”

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” River asked tiredly.

“Will we be any less fucked tomorrow? Seriously, seein’ as I’m brand new to this givin’-a-shit-about-people business, enlighten me--there any scenario where we pull an escape off ‘thout leavin’ most of ‘em here to rot or gettin’ half of ‘em killed?”

Realizing Silverhand was not gonna let it lie, and therefore he would not be getting much sleep in the immediate future, River grunted in annoyance and rolled onto his back. He stared up at the tarp, letting the wheels of his brain spin. “Too many people to fit in the trucks at the main base. Need to either hijack buyers’ vehicles--damn near impossible ‘thout intel--or somehow get in touch with V’s nomad friends. They could help folks here get where they need to go, or give ‘em a place to stay. Big ask, though. Think they’d do it for V, but… not likely to favor either of us.”

“I could ask ‘em, pretend to be V.”

River snorted in derision. “Won’t deny you’ve got better acting chops than I woulda guessed, Silverhand, but you ain’t that good. Not with folks who know V, and Panam Palmer knows V real damn well. Like sisters, practically.” He was really hoping to meet the woman someday; she sounded like someone he’d like to go drinking with.

“So maybe she’d help even if it ain’t V askin’, but she knows it’s somethin’ that V would want,” Silverhand suggested, sounding deeply uncomfortable with allowing for even the slightest hint of optimism.

“Maybe,” River mused. “Need to figure a way to reach her, first. Wraiths probably have comms gear up in the tower, strong enough to get a signal all the way out here, so they can arrange deliveries and shit. Lotta mines and assholes with guns ‘tween us and the top of that tower, though.”

“Shit,” Silverhand muttered. “Gotta bad feelin’ where this is headed.”

“You might be up there again. That prick Craven… seemed real tickled to see V. Somethin’ about a history.” River could feel his stomach hollowing itself out as he was speaking. “Not sayin’ you should do any… sexpionage shit on purpose. But the asshole’s a real no-means-fuck character and if he tries anything, maybe take a brief pause ‘tween kickin’ in his teeth and rippin’ out his guts to give Panam a call.”

No response from Silverhand, for long enough that River started to brace himself for another fistfight. Finally the engram let out a hiss of disgust. “Bein’ a chick is fuckin’ bullshit.”

Considering the way V talked about Johnny in his former life, River almost laughed and said something about karma. But it wasn’t funny, really, what Johnny had been through. What V had been through. “I wouldn’t know,” he said instead.

“Trust me--first it’s all tits an’ multiple orgasms and everything’s swell, then next thing y’know, can’t ride a subway ‘thout some gonk grabbin’ your ass like he owns it. People starin’ at you like you’re a goddamn four-course buffet--used to get that from groupies. Hated it then, worse now.” River could practically hear the fierce scowl the engram wore. “Everybody _wants_ shit from you. When you’re a rocker: tell ‘em to fuck off, screamsheets’ll call you an asshole next day, move the fuck on. In V’s body, I tell ‘em to fuck off, they decide I meant ‘fuck me.’ Dunno how she doesn’t have a goddamn megabuilding’s worth of gonk corpses under the floor.”

“Dunno how any of ‘em put up with us, really. Women, I mean.” River had been a cop for a long time. He’d seen some shit. A lot of it pulled by other cops. “Workin’ theories: they’re crazy, they’re saints, or they’re just really goddamn horny. Last one only works for the straight ones, though, which means if it were true we all shoulda been murdered by lesbians long since.”

Silverhand let out a wry, tired chuckle. “Plenty of worse ways to go.”

“Now see, that right there is exactly the type of attitude that gets the lesbians in a murderin’ mood.”

“You’re the asshole who just said all chicks must be crazy sluts. You’re dyin’ first. Reckon I’ll make my escape while they’re carvin’ up your fat gorilla carcass to nest in.” He paused and added, like an afterthought. “Chicks do that, right?”

“What, make carcass nests?” River shrugged and grinned a little, despite himself. “Yeah, far as I know. Keeps ‘em warm in winter.”

“Fuckin’ hell, should get V to teach me. There’s more’n a few bodies ready to fall ‘round here.” The first sentence was a joke; the second sounded more like a promise.

“Got that right,” River muttered, images of Craven searing themselves across the inside of his skull. Craven, and V… “Silverhand?”

“Yeah?”

“You know what all that shit Craven said was about? V’s history, that Franco guy…” _The fact that she used to be a doll?_

There was silence, for a while. “Kinda,” Silverhand said at last, grudgingly. “I don’t have V’s memories, but I see ‘em in dreams, sometimes. Shit was a horror show. Preem snuff porno XBD material, ‘cept not at all hot ‘cuz it’s real and fuckin’ disgustin’.” Silverhand paused to consider his words. “Okay, a little hot. But I swear that’s her, not me sayin’ it. She’s the freak; I ain’t into that shit. Girl starts cryin’, I’m out.”

“Silverhand,” River said, trying to curb his rising irritation. “I don’t give a fuck what you’re into; tell me what fucking happened.”

“Don’t reckon I will, Officer. Not my job. V wants you to know, she’ll tell ya.” Silverhand sounded more than a little smug.

River grit his teeth in frustration. “I appreciate your respect for V’s privacy,” he said, even though he was pretty damn sure that Silverhand didn’t give a fuck about that and was just reveling in knowing something River didn’t. “Believe me, I don’t want to know anything that she doesn’t want to share with me. But she’s _not here_. We’re outnumbered, unarmed, and if people from her past are gonna start gunning for us, we need to be ready for it. I’m not asking out of morbid curiosity; I’m asking because it might be extremely fucking relevant.”

“Doubt it.” Silverhand seemed to be taking River more seriously, at least. “Look… I don’t know much. V lost her family when she was a kid--fifteen, or so. Around then things took a sharp turn shitwards, and this guy Franco played a big part in that. The dreams from then are… bad. Tangled. Fragmented. Lots of blood, lots of screams. Bad shit happened to her and she did bad shit to some other people. She got out, but she was there for a long time… years, I think.”

“Was this in Night City?”

“Nah. Pretty far off. There’s mountains in the dreams, big ones--Rockies, maybe.”

“You notice anything else there?” River was slipping into detective mode without meaning to.

“Uh… nomads. Lots of nomads. Some V was less fond of than others.” River felt the blanket shift like Silverhand was shrugging. “Weird chanting.”

“Weird how?”

“Not English.”

“Helpful, Silverhand.”

“I dunno, Latin maybe? Sounded like gibberish to me.”

“Craven mentioned Franco had a thing for Latin,” River said aloud, though he was talking to himself. “Wonder if there’s a connection…” But if there was, his brain couldn’t make it yet. The leads were there, but too far apart. He needed more information to build the bridge. Information that presently, he could only get from Silverhand or Craven, one of whom was an intolerable asshole, and the other of whom was… also an intolerable asshole. _Nice to have options_ , River thought. He wished he could talk to V.

“This’d go so much damn smoother if she was here,” Silverhand grumbled, unknowingly echoing River’s thoughts precisely. “Mines, gonks, guns… could short ‘em all out with that ‘runner shit she does.”

A memory of Edgewood Farm entered River’s mind, watching the ground light up in flashes of red and green as dozens of mines were located and deactivated, V standing beside him with a look of concentration on her face. It had been pretty damn impressive, even if River had been too distracted by the stakes at the time to comment. 

“Can’t you use her cyberdeck?” he asked the engram, who scoffed.

“‘Bout as well as V can play the guitar.”

“Guessin’ that’s a no.”

“That’s a ‘fuck no, and if I try someone’s gonna bleed out the ears.’”

“Might need ya to try anyway.” River frowned, back on their current predicament. “Those assholes seem convinced that keepin’ me locked down keeps you down too, and they ain’t all wrong, but they also ain’t too smart. If you can buy me about three seconds without a gun in my face, bet I can turn the tables.”

“Hands tied behind your back and all? Cocky.”

“Got a trick for that,” River smirked. “You’ll see.”

“Three seconds?”

“Five’d be better but I’ll take what I can get. Think you can pull it off?”

“Shit…” Silverhand heaved a weary sigh. “Fine. I’ll fuck around with the deck tomorrow, see if I can coax out a chord or two. Not lovin’ this livin’ on hope shit.”

“Don’t gotta love it, just let it keep you goin’. Feel like a dumbass and keep hopin’ anyway.” River yawned. It was late. “My professional opinion as the starry-eyed gonk in this outfit. Livin’ with hope is easier’n dyin’ without it.”

“Tch. Maybe for gonks,” Silverhand said scornfully, but without real venom. River liked to think maybe he and V were rubbing off on the guy.


	19. R) For a Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** gore.
> 
> -KB

### River

To River’s immense relief, nothing awful happened for several days in a row. Silverhand spent a lot of the time asleep, recovering from the shit V’s body had been through. V was a fast healer, though--she’d built herself that way. And Silverhand seemed to heal even faster than she did. 

“Body works better for me than it does for her. DNA thinks it’s mine, or some shit--I dunno, it’s fucked up,” was Johnny’s response when River asked him about it. Whatever the reason, bruises faded and scabs closed like Silverhand had been convalescing for twice the time he actually had. 

With extreme reluctance, River let the engram practice using V’s quickhacks on him. Mostly, nothing happened, but every so often he’d get a splitting headache or go blind in his cyber eye, so that was fun. 

The two of them stayed with Lupe and helped her out where they could--chores or babysitting or bodyguarding as necessary. Miguel decided River was some combination of his best friend and his personal Delamain, demanding to be carried everywhere and wandering over to “help” with any task River was trying to complete. Kid had high-fives absolutely nailed, though the fist bumps still lacked a certain polish.

One evening, Lupe returned to their campsite with a worried crease in her brow. Miguel ran to greet her with a happy cry, and she scooped him up and held him close, murmuring softly in his ear.

“What’s the problem?” Silverhand asked in Spanish, frowning at her. V’s body was better clothed now; Lupe had helped them trade some food for baggy jeans, a plaid flannel button-down, and sneakers.

The woman came to sit down by the fire. Strands of hair were escaping from the dark braid that hung over her shoulder, and there were shadows beneath her eyes. “Buyers are coming,” she said, sounding hollow. “Tomorrow.”

“What does that mean? What’s going to happen?” River asked, hoping that Silverhand would translate. Fortunately, it seemed the rocker had the same questions, as he repeated River’s words without adding his customary… creative flair.

Lupe shook her head slightly. “Different every time. Sometimes they round up everyone in the middle and the buyer walks around and looks before choosing. Sometimes the buyer wants a certain skill-set, so the guards use records they keep to identify who might have it, and pull all of those people out to meet the buyer. Sometimes the guards just walk through camp and pull every pretty girl or strong young man they see until they’ve met the buyer’s quota.” She stroked Miguel’s curls, doing an admirable job of keeping her voice steady. “Keep your heads down tomorrow. V can hide in the tent with Miguel and I, if the guards start taking women. If it’s men they want… I don’t think you will fit in the tent, River, I’m sorry.”

“Esta bien,” River assured her. “Yo y V… esta bien.”

“We’ll be fine,” Silverhand agreed. “Just look after yourself and Miguel.”

Lupe’s grasp on her son tightened, and he squealed in protest. “Sorry, mijito…” she murmured, letting him squirm loose and toddle over to River. The boy grabbed River’s outstretched mechanical hand and started gnawing on the thumb. Lupe smiled, but her eyes were sad. “If… I don’t have any right to ask you this, but--if something happens--if they take me and not Miguel--”

“We won’t let that happen,” Silverhand said, while River spoke at exactly the same moment.

“Miguel will be safe.”

Lupe looked from one to the other of them, her smile growing slightly at the mixed assurances in Spanish and English. River’s words might not have been clear to her, but the conviction in his tone was as unmistakable as the affection he held for the kid. 

“Thank you both,” Lupe said. “I hope I’m only asking for an empty promise to help me sleep tonight.”

“Hey, empty promises are a specialty of mine,” Silverhand said, grinning one of V’s disarmingly charming grins. 

River let out a snort. “Nice to hear you admit it, at least.”

Silverhand switched back to English, aiming a sneer at River. “I ain’t ever promised you shit I didn’t deliver, ‘honey.’ You’re the one with the big plans and the fancy talk and nothin’ to show for it. Hey, how’s that ‘hope’ plan workin’ out for us so far?”

“Not like you’ve been any help. I’ve yet to hear an effort from you that's more than complainin’ about what an idiot I am for tryin’ to keep up the goddamn will to live.” Something about Silverhand’s condescension was bothering River more than usual tonight, and the prospect of what they’d be facing tomorrow sure wasn’t helping. “V’s the professional bucket of sunshine. Me? I’m just doin’ my best to keep draggin’ your broodin’, misanthropic ass out of whatever dark hole you’ve dug yourself into this hour. Gettin’ kinda sick of it, Johnny.”

Silverhand straightened up from his slouched posture by the fire. His eyes were narrow and cold. “There somethin’ you need to get off your tits, Officer?”

“My fuckin’ rank was Detective and you damn well know it. And yeah, matter of fact--there is.” River’s gaze narrowed to match Johnny’s. “You’re older and deader and more famous than me, but none of that shit-- _none_ of it--makes you better’n me. And I am tryin’, because you’re important to V and V is important to me, to be a friend. To play nice, even though you’re clearly more interested in throwin’ the gameboard ‘cross the room and stompin’ on the pieces. But I ain’t a saint and there’s a goddamn _limit_ , Silverhand.” River found his voice was rising along with his temper, and he forced it back down a level, trying not to upset Miguel. “You said you were _in_. So come up with a better plan, if you fuckin’ can. Give me a goddamn break from playin’ the optimist and find somethin’ that’ll save our skins for real. I’ll wait right fuckin’ here.”

“You don’t want me to make the plan.” Silverhand said darkly. ”Not for a rescue op.”

River ignored the warning in his tone. “See, and this is what I mean! Why the fuck not? Because you tried once and failed? Fucked up magnificently? Got people killed?” He was speculating, but he could tell by Silverhand’s intensifying glare that his guesses were hitting home. “So there’s your excuse to never try again, and to throw yourself a goddamn pity party whenever somebody suggests you give a damn. We all fuck up, Johnny! Only some assholes decide they’re too good for failure and make everyone around ‘em take the risks instead.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about,” spat Silverhand. “Which is surprising, considerin’ the intimate carnal knowledge you’ve got of _failure_.”

“Wanna spell out what you mean by that, Silverhand?” River’s voice grew dangerously low.

“Exhibit A: your sad, sorry fuckin’ life spent lickin’ boots clean of what you were too dumb to see was literal fuckin’ pigshit.”

River growled, and Lupe stepped in. “Enough. Whatever you two are fighting about--enough. We all need rest for tomorrow. Go to sleep.”

Silverhand got to his feet. “Goin’ for a walk. Buenas noches, Lupe.” He turned and strode away from the fire.

“Like fuck you are,” River muttered, standing up as well. “Lo siento, Lupe… um… buenas noches.” He returned a puzzled Miguel to his mother and hurried after Silverhand.

It didn’t take him long to catch up; his legs were a lot longer than V’s. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“On. A. Fuckin’. Walk.” Silverhand’s fists were clenched. “Don’t need your permission for that, _Officer_.”

“You hate badges. I get it. You also hate everything with a pulse, so I don’t take it personally. But what I absolutely cannot stand is how you fuckin’ act like pointin’ out what’s broken without doin’ a damn thing to fix it is some grand contribution to society. Yeah, the system is corrupt, and people are out here sellin’ other people, and everything is shit and misery, and I don’t fuckin’ know how to fix a single damn thing or if any of it even _can_ be fixed. But I am _trying_ , and fucking up, and sometimes every once in a while, I actually manage to help someone. How many people can you honestly say you’ve helped, Silverhand? Bet it’s less than twelve thousand.” The last sentence slipped out with a bitter anger that surprised even River.

The engram did not stop walking, or turn V’s head to acknowledge River’s presence at all. “You’re a fucking idiot, Ward.”

“You’re a fucking coward, Johnny.”

“You done bitchin’ yet? ‘Cuz I got something to say.”

River scoffed. “This should be good. Let’s hear it.”

“I don’t think I’m better than you--I _know_ I am. And not ‘cuz I’m famous or any of that shit you said. I’m better because it ain’t all that hard to be better than a pathetic fuckin’ cockroach like you.”

“What the fuck--”

“You heard me. Roach. Trailin’ after V, hopin’ she’ll drop enough crumbs that you don’t starve to death from your own goddamn insignificance. Dunno why she puts up with you; all you are to her is hassle and heartache.”

River might have punched him in the face right there, if it wasn’t also V’s. “Don’t you fucking talk about V like you know what’s best for her. _You’re_ the thing that’s fucking killing her.”

Silverhand clapped his hands, rounding on River with an unsettling grin. “Aaaaand there it is! That’s what you’re really pissed about, ain’t it? That’s why you can’t stand me; ‘cuz your output, the only goddamn worthwhile thing in your sorry-ass existence, is dyin’, and I’m gonna be all that’s left of her.”

River’s jaw tightened. “You’re nothing like her.”

“No?” Silverhand raised V’s eyebrows high. “Got some news for ya, Ward. V and I are closer than you think, and gettin’ closer by the day.” He thrust a finger at his temple. “We’re all tangled up in here. Bleedin’ into each other. I know her better than anyone ever will. Better than you do, and better than she knows herself.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It truly ain’t. The kid’s a mess. Too scared and hurtin’ to do what needs to be done, but too stubborn to let someone else do it. She was headed direct for a total fuckin’ meltdown, and that was before those quacks at the nuthouse got their hands on her. Know why? ‘Cuz of _you_.” 

His gaze bored straight into River. “Before you she was clear. She had a plan. We were gonna take down ‘Saka together. Didn’t know if it’d work for sure, but was gonna be glorious either way. Then you come along and she twists herself into fuckin’ knots! Tryin’ to be what you needed. Tryin’ to help you. Tryin’ to get close to you and hating herself for it the whole time ‘cuz she feels so fucking _guilty_ that she’s gonna fucking die and leave you. If she does die, her last few months on the planet will have been goddamn _agony_ , and it’s your fuckin’ fault.”

Blood was roaring in River’s ears. “Are you seriously trying to say that _falling in love with me_ was the thing that ruined V’s life?”

“Yeah. I fuckin’ am.”

River shoved Johnny, hard enough to make the engram stagger backwards a step. He didn’t think V would mind, given the context. 

“You are so full of shit it’s a fuckin' miracle you don’t choke on it!” he snarled. “Yeah, newsflash-- _love hurts_. Giving a fuck hurts. Only a goddamn sociopath like you would use that as an excuse to never even _try_.” He was getting loud again, but he didn’t care. “If you and V are really so fucking close, you’d know that she ain’t afraid of pain. So who are you actually protecting, Silverhand? Huh?” He jammed his index finger into V’s sternum, right in the center of the anatomical heart tattooed there. “Is V even really sleepin’, or are you just so goddamn terrified of feelin’ anything at all that you _can’t_ let her out?”

Silverhand slapped River’s hand away with bruising force. His eyes were glittering dangerously. River braced himself for a counterattack, but it didn’t come. Instead, the engram sniffed the air and scowled, breaking the standoff to look around. 

“Nicotine… God, I’d kill for a smoke,” Silverhand grumbled, raking a hand through V’s hair.

“Are you serious?” River gaped at him. Silverhand ignored the question and started walking away. River threw up his hands in frustration and disgust. He watched the engram stride towards the center of camp, and debated whether he should follow him. The guy was clearly in a mood. River didn’t especially want to get in another knockdown fistfight with the asshole possessing his girlfriend’s body, but playing nice hadn’t gotten him anywhere and shouting wasn’t helping much either. Even if it felt pretty good.

At last, Silverhand disappeared behind some tents, and River decided he should probably keep after him. No telling what could happen after dark in a place like this.

Rounding the corner past the same tents, he couldn’t see Silverhand anywhere, but he heard voices a little ahead of him.

“You’re the one Craven warned us about,” said an unknown man. Sounded like he was smirking.

“I am.” That was Silverhand. River quickened his pace.

“What’s your deal, anyway? Don’t look all that tough to me. You got those fancy knives in your arms, or somethin’?” The man was a Wraith on patrol, smoking a cigarette and holding a rifle. River spotted him through a gap between tents.

“Don’t I fuckin’ wish,” said Silverhand casually. “But nah. Nothin’ like that. Can I bum a smoke?”

_What the fuck are you doing, Silverhand?_

“What’s in it for me? Gonna be sweet?” The man grinned lasciviously and raised his eyebrows, but after a pause he chuckled. “Just fuckin’ with ya. Craven’d kill me. Sure, lemme--” He reached for the pack of cigarettes stuffed in his pocket, and Silverhand struck fast.

The engram seized the man’s weapon in both hands and twisted it away from his slack grip. Johnny slammed the butt of the rifle into the guard’s gut, stunning him temporarily, and tossed the gun to the sand out of reach. He grabbed the guard by the collar and yanked him down to V’s eye level, before plucking the burning cigarette from the man’s lips and resettling it between his own. 

Silverhand inhaled deeply, and exhaled in a growl. “‘Preciate it, choom.” His fist cocked back before he drove it into the man’s face. Again. And again. Even though the Wraith struggled frantically, Silverhand held him fast with one hand, and seemingly no effort, as he pounded the absolute shit out of the man’s skull like he meant to fuck it with his fist. Bone cracked and blood ran, spattering across V’s cheeks and dripping down her knuckles. Finally the guard went limp, and River covered his nose and mouth as the stench of the man’s evacuated bowels reached him.

_Dead._

“Tch.” Silverhand dropped the corpse as carelessly as a bag of garbage, stepping neatly out of reach of the expanding puddle of bodily fluids around it. He saw River watching nearby, and smirked savagely when he caught the former badge’s horrified gaze. The engram took another drag off the dead man’s cigarette, and flicked some ash loose with a sharp gesture. The words he’d spoken a couple minutes ago twisted into a new, horrifying context.

_“God, I’d kill for a smoke.”_

All of River’s limbs felt heavy and cold. There was shouting nearby, and guards were coming, alerted by the commotion.

_We’re completely fucked._


	20. J+R) Cold Eyes, Red Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** many slurs against women used by the bad guys, blooooood. Oh and reference to that gig where you find an XBD of a child who's been kidnapped and murdered.
> 
> Thoughts and flashbacks from the section's POV character are _italicized._
> 
> -KB

### Johnny

_V, if you can hear me…_

_…_

_...never mind._

“Thought we all understood each other here,” the asshole in charge was saying, waving a hand to incorporate himself, Silverhand, and River (and the six other goons in the cramped underground bunker with them, but their inclusion was probably incidental because the boss guy was angrily overemphasizing his gestures) into the statement. “You don’t make trouble. I don’t kill your input. Everyone’s fuckin’ happy. Now look what you did! You killed one of my guys, and nobody’s happy, you dumb cunt!” He backhanded Silverhand hard enough that the engram tasted blood and metal.

Johnny and River were on their knees, with their hands cuffed behind them and an exciting variety of guns pointed at their heads. Johnny spat onto the dusty floor. “Thought _you_ told your gonks to stay hands-off. Guy seemed pretty fuckin’ hands-on to me.”

The leader (Johnny could not for the life of him remember the asshole’s name) heaved a sigh of exasperation and disgust. “So you fuckin’ sixed him, huh? ‘Course you did. Can’t say he didn’t deserve it if he was dumb enough to ignore my orders, but you’re still gonna pay. A broken-down little doll like you doesn’t get to _fuck_ with the Raffen Shiv.” He jerked his head, and a woman standing behind River held a Bowie knife to the cop’s throat. “Your input’s lookin’ a little asymmetrical there, Five. Reckon we can fix that. Which do you want as a souvenir? His hand, or his eye?”

River’s ‘ganic eye was, at the moment, glaring at Johnny with unreserved hatred. He remained as still as stone as the woman with the knife drew its point down his cheek, opening a thin red line. Johnny averted his gaze and mumbled, “Don’t hurt him.”

“Not an option,” the gang boss said. “Choose, or we take ‘em both.”

A feeling of alarm that didn’t belong to him pulsed across his mind.

_V?_

He slumped his shoulders and hung his head, watching River from under his (V’s?) lashes. “Please, stop! I can fix this--make it up to you--”

“Now how do you think you’d manage that?” The leader scoffed, but his tone betrayed his interest as he stood in front of Silverhand, leering down at V’s kneeling form. “Well? I’m waiting for your brilliant plan.”

“Just let me--I need to think--please just give me three seconds!” _Hope that was cue enough for you, badge._

The Wraith smiled. It was a cruel expression. “One.”

 _Craven_ , Johnny suddenly remembered the asshole’s name. _Right._

“Two.”

_Eat a dick, Craven._

“Thr--”

The lights went off and the underground room was plunged into absolute blackness.

### River

“--three seconds!”

Silverhand’s words spilled like a shock of cold water all over the simmering rage River had been silently cultivating towards him for the last few hours locked in this damn basement. The rage flared up high again an instant later, as he realized just how stupid Silverhand was about to be, and how he _had_ to go along with this plan that would probably get them killed or they would _definitely_ both die.

_Fuck you, Silverhand. Couldn’t’ve fuckin’ clued me in earlier?!_

“One,” said Craven.

River depressed a hidden switch in his mechanical hand and gave the appendage a slight twist.

“Two.”

The hand came off, still attached to his ‘ganic hand by the cuffs, but leaving both arms free to move.

“Three.”

The lights in the room died, and River moved fast. He grabbed the wrist of the woman who was crouched behind him with a knife to his throat, yanking down on her arm while snapping his head back so that his skull crashed into the bridge of her nose. The woman staggered and started to fall, and River swept one of his legs out behind him to catch her ankle and help her along the way. She hit the ground hard, still dazed, and River groped in the dark for a second before he found the gun on her hip.

Now armed, he surged to his feet, barreling straight for the spot where he’d last seen Craven. The goons had caught on from the sounds of River’s brief struggle that something was happening, but fortunately they weren’t quite dumb enough to open fire in a pitch black room filled with their own chooms. There was a lot of yelling and fumbling around though. River heard a thump and a cry as a ganger threw himself bodily at the place River had been a moment ago, landing heavily on the woman instead.

River slammed into a body he really hoped was Craven, and wrapped his handless arm around the man’s neck from behind, locking him in a choke. He pulled the hammer back on the revolver he’d grabbed, making sure it was close enough to the man’s ear that he could hear it click.

“Stop! Everybody, freeze!” The man bellowed, and River grinned in triumph.

_Gotcha._

There was a buzzing hum as a backup generator somewhere kicked to life, and the lights flickered back on. Besides the two in a heap on the ground, one Wraith was kneeling, clutching his leg, and howling. Blood was pouring out from the back of his calf. As River watched in horror, Silverhand rose up behind the man like a goddamn ghost, holding the Bowie knife. The snapped remnants of the cuffs that had held him were on the ground. Without hesitation the engram dragged the knife across the man’s throat. Deep crimson spurted from the wound and soaked through his shirt, and he died silently, unable to scream with a severed trachea.

It was unnerving how empty of emotion V’s face was. The merc was never one to kill in cold blood--or at all, unless she had a good reason. And considering her skill at slipping past obstacles unnoticed and non-lethal incapacitation, the reason had to be a damn sight better than “they were in my way.” It was why River had felt okay--good, even--about working with her while he was still a cop, even though she was a merc and not accountable to the same system he was. She held herself accountable, kept to her own ethics, served her own code. He’d seen what it did to her when she broke her code, no matter how deserving the recipients had been.

_“Ain’t right,” she mumbled, taking another drink of her beer. They were up on the water tower again, staring at the city lights from a distance that made them beautiful. V had just finished telling River about a job she’d pulled that day. Messy business. Tracking down a BD of a kid’s torture and murder. She hadn’t found the actual culprits, but she’d run across the editors who tuned the BD. Father and son team. Fucking sick._

_They were both dead now. River was glad._

_“None of that shit was right, V. Those two were… were fuckin’ monsters. Anyone who could see what they saw and decide to try and turn a profit off it...you did the world a favor, puttin’ ‘em down.”_

_V did not look convinced. “They were people, River, not rabid animals. They loved each other. I could tell.” The merc’s knees were drawn up, and she lowered her head to rest in the hollow between them and her chest. “‘Sides--ain’t my job, playin’ judge, jury and executioner. Not the one I get paid for, and not the one I want either.”_

_River was trying, but he couldn’t quite understand the depth of the guilt that V seemed to be harboring about this. “Wasn’t that long ago I was the one agonizing over the gray areas, and you were tellin’ me you believed in good and evil. Wasn’t it evil, what they did?”_

_“Yes,” she said, with deeply held conviction. “They were bad people doin’ bad shit, and they had to be stopped. But the way I stopped ‘em…” She set her empty beer bottle aside and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I was so fuckin’ angry… but I coulda found another way; I didn’t have to kill ‘em. But I did, ‘cuz I wanted to. Shot the son first so his dad would have to watch him die, so maybe he’d know just the tiniest bit of the pain he was puttin’ some other father through when they watched that BD he tuned. That’s fucked up, River. I… shit, that’s not who I wanna be.”_

_“It’s not who you are,” River murmured. He hoped it was the right thing to say; the moment felt to him a lot like uncharted territory. He wanted to comfort V, but he still didn’t believe she’d done anything wrong, and she clearly did not want to hear that. “Listen, I… can see this is tearin’ you up. Can’t say I understand why, completely, but you know I’ll help if there’s any way I can. Just tell me what you need.”_

_V turned her head sideways, regarding him with a small, sad smile. “I dunno what I need. Maybe just some company for the pity party I’m throwin’ myself.”_

_“I can do that,” River said, scooching closer to her until their sides gently touched. His ‘ganic hand came up and rested on the back of her neck, stroking the hair at her nape softly. She sighed almost musically and leaned into him._

_“You’re a regular lifesaver, Detective.”_

Silverhand, in V’s body, bent to wipe the blood off the knife with the corpse’s sleeve. He straightened, cracking his neck from side to side. Still with that frozen, unreadable expression--he might as well have just set down a bag of takeout as cut a man’s throat. Seeing V like that, red hands and cold eyes… it felt wrong, to River. Deeply, sacrilegiously _wrong_.

“Shit!” Craven yelped, his pitch jumping into unmanly registers. “You crazy bitch! I told them to stand down!”

“Yeah. I heard.” Was it River’s imagination, or did V’s voice sound deeper and more gravelly than it ever had? “‘Bout that: fuck you, and fuck your pansy-ass chooms too. You can all choke on my cock.” Silverhand’s gaze flicked over the three remaining goons, who were looking a bit twitchy in the trigger finger department. The engram’s grin was a flash of sharp canines.

River decided now was a good time to speak up. “Don’t move,” he addressed the goons gruffly. “She’s done.” _You had fucking better be done, Silverhand._ “‘Less any of you try to pull some gonk shit, only one we need is pretty boy here.” He squeezed Craven’s throat roughly, and the man coughed. The gangers looked at each other, and then at their boss, searching for some kind of leadership. 

River loosened his chokehold enough for Craven to gasp out, “Listen to ‘em. Do what ‘e says.”

Relieved of the burden of self-determination, the three goons stepped back and followed River’s instructions to lay down their weapons. Silverhand collected whatever struck his fancy, tucking a pistol into his belt along with his new knife, and slinging a couple of rifles over his shoulder. Under River’s direction, one of the Wraiths pulled out a bundle of plastic zip ties and cuffed the other four that were still alive. Silverhand checked the restraints for security and cuffed the last guy himself. 

“Shall we, ‘darling’?” Johnny said to River, and there was too much venom in it for the barb to be playful. The engram apparently wasn't over their argument last night. That was fine by River; he wasn’t over it either, and didn’t intend to be unless he got a fucking good apology: a prospect that seemed about as likely as a kind-hearted corpo saving Christmas. But they didn’t need to like each other to work together.

For now.

River didn’t respond, but Silverhand didn’t hang around waiting for him to either. The engram strode towards the door, and the stairs beyond that led up to the main level of the bunker. River dragged Craven out and followed, slamming the cellar door shut and stomping on the lock to jam it once they emerged. When he rounded the corner with his prisoner, he saw Johnny pointing his new pistol at a lady sitting in front of a bunch of monitors. Probably the gang’s netrunner. “Take ‘em down,” Silverhand was saying.

“What--all of them?!” she sputtered, fear sweat beading on her brow. “I can’t--there’s hundreds--it’d take hours--”

“Better get started then,” Silverhand growled. The lady looked over at Craven, her expression all hopeless and helpless.

“Boss? They want me to take down the mine grids--what should I--?”

“Do it, you stupid bitch,” Craven snarled from his half-strangled position. River tightened his hold again.

“Beginning to think you might be kind of a misogynist,” River remarked. “Which is a fancy kind of asshole, in addition to the several plain old regular varieties of gigantic, shit-filled asshole you are.”

Silverhand let the woman return to her keyboard and she frantically started typing. “Give me admin access, while you’re at it,” Silverhand drawled. “I’ll give you a hand with the mines. All neighborly, and shit.” The woman nodded, and Silverhand’s eyes glowed blue as he received the permissions. “Preem. Thanks, dollface.”

“See that? Misogyny, like I was sayin’. Talkin’ down to women. Easy to spot when it’s someone else doin’ it, right?” River said conversationally. Craven only gurgled, unable to verbally defend himself.

Silverhand ignored the one-sided banter. He ruffled the woman’s hair, smirked when she flinched, and turned to go. River followed.

Outside, various Raffen Shiv glanced warily at them. A few even touched their guns, before Craven barked for them to stand down. _Trouble with running a gang like a circus_ , River mused as they walked, _show can’t go on without the ringmaster_. And in this case, the ringmaster had no understudy. Instead of looking to a well-trained second ready to take command in situations where the leader was incapacitated, everyone was just… standing around, waiting to be told what to do. It wouldn’t last forever--River had no doubt sooner or later some idiot would either mount a rescue operation or declare themselves leader and give Craven up for dead. 

So they didn’t have forever, but they didn’t need it. Trouble was, River wasn’t sure how much of forever they did need.

Mines buried in the sand flared to life and then died around them as they walked. Whether it was Silverhand or the ‘runner, it was an impressive (if gut-churningly suspenseful) sight. River finally forced himself to ask Johnny, “You doing this?”

“Eh? Yeah. Still can’t hack for shit with this deck, but unencrypted stuff, turnin’ things on and off like lights, or mines with an admin code… gettin’ the hang of it.” Silverhand sounded more pleased with himself than annoyed with River for once, but that didn’t last long. “Takes focus though, so shut the fuck up unless you have a burnin’ need to rid yourself of thirty pounds of leg meat.”

They reached the base of the comms tower and began the climb. River was not loving having to maneuver a guy who weighed almost as much as he did up the stairs ahead of him, but he’d still take it over their blind, look-ma-no-hands initial ascent. There were mines rigged to the stairs, too--inactive, but when River looked back he saw that Silverhand had reset the ones they’d already passed. No one was gonna be following them up in a hurry.

Nearly at the top, and River was drawing in a breath to be exhaled as a sigh of relief, when a little higher up, on the last step, Silverhand stopped dead. River couldn’t see why, but he could hear a familiar, robo-tuned woman’s voice.

“Freeze, bitch.”


	21. R) Better Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** sexist and ableist slurs, used mostly but not exclusively by the bad guys; a bit of gore.
> 
> -KB

### River

“Shoot me and your boss dies. He’s right behind me; see for yourself.” Silverhand sounded almost bored.

Ozzie--the spider-eyed woman, one of the pair who had first captured them--grunted, and River saw the tip of her gun wave. “Keep movin’. Not too fast.” Silverhand finished the ascent and paced forward onto the platform. River followed.

The Wraith kept her tech rifle trained on Silverhand, though she spared a glance at River and Craven as they arrived. “Well. Looks like we got an old-fashioned Mexican stand-off here.”

“Is that racist?” Silverhand mused carelessly. “Seein’ as you’re such an expert on these isms, Ward, care to weigh in?” The engram’s tone was pure scorn, and didn’t deserve a response.

River addressed himself to Ozzie, instead. “Seems so. Got any ideas better than us shootin’ our hostages and then each other?”

“Just one,” she said, and River staggered as a spike of searing pain shot through his skull. 

Electronic buzzing filled his ears and static clouded the vision of his cyber eye. He tried to keep a grip on Craven, but the gang leader shoved an elbow hard in his guts and slipped out of reach. River cursed and raised the revolver, ready to fire blind if he had to, but another new voice halted his action.

“I wouldn’t, asshole. Glitched your whole set-up; that thing’s gonna blow your last gimp hand off if you pull the trigger.” It was the big, half-tank guy--Ozzie’s partner, and apparently somewhere in his clunky pseudo-military chrome, there was a decent cyberdeck. He was standing by a comms array console and smirking in a very Silverhandish way. Not that they looked anything alike; it was just that both expressions made River want to punch them really fucking badly.

“Nice one, Brax. You too, Oz.” Craven sounded so hoarse he was barely intelligible, and River took a very small bit of vindictive glee from that. The gang leader drew his own weapon and aimed it at River. “Brax--get Franco on the line. I don’t give a shit that it’s early; call until he fuckin’ answers. Tell him the price just doubled--fuck it, triple it. Bitch is more trouble than she’s worth. If he ain’t gonna pay and pick her up right goddamn _today_ , the deal’s off and she dies. I’ll give him a discount on the corpse, though, if he asks nice.”

“You, uh, want me to say all that exactly, boss?” Brax seemed hesitant.

Craven rolled his eyes and sneered at the other man. “Christ no, you fuckknuckle. Be polite. Franco’s a dangerous guy with dangerous friends. But don’t be a pussy about it. Make it clear that his precious doll is leavin’ here by sunset, and it’s up to him and his eddies whether or not she’s leakin’ through a bag when she does.”

“Got it.” Brax didn’t look precisely thrilled with his new job, but he turned his back on the rest of them to use the comms console.

Leaving just Ozzie, Craven, River, Silverhand, and the guns they were pointing at each other.

River kept his revolver steady and aimed straight at Craven’s head. Pain was still ringing his skull like a bell, but the static and the buzzing were starting to die down. Whatever shit Brax had fed into his system, his internal processors were working double-time to compensate, and it wouldn’t be long before his diagnostics ran clear. ‘Course, they’d still be fucked over, but at least he’d have a gun.

Silverhand was the only one not currently fingering a trigger, and he didn’t seem especially concerned by that fact. In fact, he looked practically tickled. Like this was all some great joke.

His easy smirk made River exceptionally nervous.

The engram paced back and forth, stalking the platform like a zoo animal in a cage from some old movie. Ozzie raised her rifle to brace against her shoulder and barked an order. “Stay fuckin’ put.”

“Relax, sweetheart. It’s a beautiful day.” Silverhand gestured out at the horizon. Dark blue-gray was fading into streaks of pink and yellow, and the first red flare of the sunrise.

The Wraith woman was not impressed. She pulled a lever and some mechanism in her rifle whirred to life. “I said--stay put, bitch.”

“Fine.” The engram came to a halt, leaning back against the railing with the sun behind him. “But you’re gonna regret not takin’ a second to enjoy the last sunrise of your life. Bitch.”

“The fuck did you just say to me?!” Ozzie growled, taking a step forward.

“Leave it, Oz,” Craven snapped. “She’s talkin’ out her ass, tryin’ to get one of us to do somethin’ stupid.”

Silverhand scoffed. “As if that’d be a challenge. You fuckers eat, sleep, breathe, and shit stupid.”

“See? She’s got nothin’,” Craven said triumphantly. “We’re holdin’ all the cards here.”

“Kinda looks to me like all you’re holdin’ is your own shriveled gonk dick in your hand, while you pay some skezzed-out joytoy to feed you a line of horseshit about how _big_ and _strong_ it is,” Silverhand commented, as casually as if he were still on the topic of weather. “You’re the joytoy in this scenario, Oz--’case that wasn’t clear. Could see the metaphor goin’ over your head, what with how hard it is to imagine anyone ever wantin’ to fuck ya, let alone payin’ for the privilege.”

“Can I please just shoot her, boss. A little bit. Not even a full spread. She won’t die… well, not fast, anyway. We can still get paid.” The woman’s robotic voice was so flat it was basically monotone.

“Hm,” said Craven, and to River’s despair, it sounded like he was considering it. The Wraith leader glanced over at Brax. “You get Franco yet, Brax?”

“Not yet, boss. Still tryin’.” He seemed apologetic, which was always a weird look on the biggest guy in the room.

“Try faster.”

“I’m callin’ fast as I can, he just ain’t picked up--”

“I know! Christ! It’s a fuckin’ expression,” Craven said in exasperated annoyance.

“Really isn’t,” River muttered before he could stop himself.

“Huh? Wassat? Does the gonk have somethin’ to share with the class?” Craven hissed at him. “Maybe he could teach us some more of his fancy big-city words! Learnin’ ‘misogyny’ was a real treat, must say. So there’s a word for talkin’ down to women--what’s the word for what I’m doin’ now, talkin’ down to whatever a worthless gimp like you is?”

River’s grip on the gun tightened, but his expression remained placid and his tone even. Sensitivity training wasn’t mandated for all officers, but he’d taken the course anyway. “Well, if you hate me ‘cuz I’m a man, then it’s ‘misandry.’ If you just hate people in general, it’s ‘misanthropy.’ My beautiful output over there knows a thing or two about that.”

Silverhand smirked and gave a quick, sarcastic salute. River continued, “But it sounds to me like you’re mockin’ me for bein’ disabled, in which case, what you’re doin’ is called ‘ableism.’ Simple to remember, though not as pretty as the Greek ones. And, just like with misogyny--doin’ it makes you a huge asshole. No word for prejudice against those. ‘Cuz fuckin’ with assholes is just common fuckin’ sense.”

“Couldn’t’ve put it better myself, Professor,” Silverhand drawled. The note of approval in his tone somehow pissed River off even worse.

“Eat shit and die, bastard. You’re the reason we’re in this mess,” River’s voice stayed calm but he took a moment to shoot a glare of undiluted hatred over at the engram. “Why’d you kill that fuckin’ guard last night, anyway?!” He didn’t expect Silverhand to engage, so the answer to his question caught him by surprise.

“Hope was takin’ too long.” The engram shrugged. 

River froze for an instant. A muscle twitched in his cheek. Then, slowly, “You’re tellin’ me… that was part of your fuckin’ plan?! Are you serious?! Beating a man to death for a cigarette--sure, that’s fucked up, about what I expect from you, Johnny--but you beat a man to death just for the slim fuckin’ chance that they wouldn’t kill us right there, and instead take us to the boss, who we could then overpower via your _miniscule_ cyberdeck skills and me takin’ a wild fuckin’ guess as to which gonk in a pitch black room was the guy in charge?!”

“Uh… yep. Sounds ‘bout right.”

With titanic effort and teeth grit so hard his jaw ached, River managed to prevent himself from screaming. “You’re a goddamn maniac, Silverhand.”

“Told you. You don’t want me to make the plan.”

River laughed, only a little bit hysterically. “No fuckin’ shit! If you weren’t V right now, I swear--”

“You’d what? Shoot me?” Silverhand flicked a finger at Ozzie. “There’s the queue.”

The two Wraiths were trading bemused glances with each other. _Probably thinkin’ this is the weirdest fuckin’ lovers’ quarrel in history._

“I’m perplexed,” Craven said outright. “Ain’t you two an item? Sure seemed like you gave a shit about this one, Five.” He ran his tongue over his lip as he stared at Silverhand, grinning. “Tasted like it, too.”

“Ugh. Fuckin’ gross.” The engram sounded disgusted, but not terribly worried by the attempted menace. “First off--brush your goddamn teeth once in a while, lunatic. No wonder you gotta threaten chicks with death before they’ll kiss ya. Second--hey, Ozzie? Over here.” He whistled sharply, like he was beckoning a pet. The woman’s focus narrowed in on him, cold and deadly. “Yeah, that’s it. Wanna get a good look at those stupid bug eyes you got. Echh, you actually pay money for those? Look like goddamn boils growin’ out your face. Absolutely fuckin’ vile. Third--I think that’s long enough.”

Things started happening very fast. The engram darted sideways, and the instant he moved from the rail the full, white heat of the newly-risen sun he had been blocking from view shone out--directly into Oz’s optics. The woman flinched, cursing as her multitude of lenses caught and magnified the light, overwhelming her processors momentarily. 

Craven and River fired at each other as they ducked for cover at almost the same moment, and they both missed. Well--almost. As Craven threw himself behind a console in the control booth, River felt a line of fire drawn across his bicep and realized he’d been clipped. No time to check the severity of the wound; Brax was turning and his eyes were glowing blue as his cyberware revved up.

_Don’t miss this one._

River steadied his aim and squeezed the trigger, and Brax’s eye socket exploded in a mess of blood and brains. The big man toppled to the ground, towards where Craven had taken shelter, and River heard a yelp as the gang boss scrambled to not be crushed.

Meanwhile, Silverhand and Ozzie were engaged in a dangerous dance across the platform. Silverhand had the Bowie knife out again and was swiping and slashing, trying to get around Ozzie’s guard. For her part, the Wraith was still stumbling and probably partially blind, but she was swinging the heavy butt of the rifle at Silverhand every time he drew near, forcing him to pull back. She was trying to level the rifle enough to get a shot out, but every time she started to raise it Silverhand closed distance again, and she had to use the gun as a melee weapon to fend off the fresh assault.

The sights on River’s revolver drifted in their direction, but they were moving too fast for him to secure the target he wanted. He was about as likely to hit Silverhand as he was Oz--and as tempting as that sounded, he really had better things to do than babysit a pissed-off rockerboy with a bullet wound. 

Just then, a shot rang out, striking sparks from the metal railing behind him. River whirled out of the line of sight and dropped low, making his way carefully towards the control booth.

 _Better things._ Like beating the shit out of Craven, for example.


	22. J) Mindscape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** sexist and ableist slurs, disassociation as a means of coping with trauma, Johnny uses a joke/insult equating kink with sexual assault, some blood & gore.
> 
> -KB

### Johnny

The Wraith bitch was recovering fast, and Johnny knew it was time to press his advantages before he lost them. He was familiar with the optical array she used; it was originally Militech, designed for night missions. The earlier models were so feedback-heavy a corpo-soldier could shoot the dick off a rat at 300 yards in pitch blackness, but shining so much as a goddamn flashlight straight in the lenses could trigger a hard reboot and a killer headache. Tech had improved--this chick wasn’t totally blind and crying on the floor--but the basic kink apparently had yet to be ironed out.

Once she had her full range of vision back, though, dodging was gonna get a lot trickier. Johnny was already working his ass off not to get brained with the butt of her assault rifle, and he’d collected a bruise or two in the process. He really should have shot her right after he blinded her instead of charging in with the knife. At this point if he took the time to draw and fire the pistol he carried, she’d have the chance to get off a shot at him too. And hers was bigger.

_Real fuckin’ smooth, Silverhand._

The side of the rifle barrel drove into his ribs, as a punctuation to his own stupidity. He staggered and grunted in pain, throwing himself to the side to avoid her follow-up blow. It was a nearer miss than it should have been. She could definitely see him now.

_All right. Watch close._

He bull-rushed her, bringing the knife up like he meant to slip it under her guard and into her guts. Understandably, she thrust out the rifle braced in both hands to block him and avoid that eventuality.

But it was a feint. Silverhand stopped just shy of collision and lashed out with the knife, cutting deep into the woman’s fingers curled around her weapon. He felt the blade scrape bone as he yanked it loose, and the bitch screamed, losing her grip in slick blood and sharp pain. Johnny didn’t hesitate to follow through on the opening he’d made, a quick twist to reverse his grip on the knife and he swept his arm back, slashing her throat in the process.

He’d forgotten about those damn robotic vocal cords of hers, though. Metal blade glanced off chrome, and she was bleeding and screaming but she wasn’t _dead._ In fact she was fumbling with the rifle, raising it to fire, maimed hand supporting the weapon’s weight while her good trigger finger reached--

Johnny shoved the knife up into her brain through the soft spot under her chin just before she could blow a hole in his torso. She gurgled, optics whirring to focus on Johnny’s--on _V’s_ face as she died.

The woman’s limp weight landed all at once on his arm, and he dropped her along with the knife lodged in her skull. Turning, he surveyed the carnage: the really big asshole was down with a case of severe brain ventilation, which just left the asshole in charge and the asshole that was mostly on Johnny’s side. Neither of which were currently in sight, but the sounds of a struggle were coming from behind a console in the comms booth.

_Preem._

He stalked towards the noise, pistol drawn and held lightly at his side. No safety on this model, he noted with approval.

The assholes were wrestling, both their guns kicked well out of reach. Neither looked in great shape, but the badge seemed to be coming out on top at the moment, with his handless arm locked around Craven’s upper chest and his other hand clutching the stump. River braced a foot against the console and shoved hard, forcing both men into a roll. He was able to use their shared momentum to carry him partway upright, shifting his grip as he did from Craven’s chest to behind the gang boss’s neck, putting him in a full nelson hold.

“Boys,” Johnny drawled, canting his hips as he leaned casually against the console. “Settle down. You’re both pretty.”

River, predictably, just glared at him. He was breathing hard as he fought to keep the squirming ganger in his grasp. Said asshole stopped squirming long enough to peer up at Johnny.

“You kill Oz?” Craven asked, rage warring with defeat in his tone.

Johnny glanced over at the fresh corpse he’d made. “Yep.”

Craven snarled and threw himself bodily against River’s hold, making the bigger man strain to hang on. “Fuck you, bitch! And you, you fuckin’ gimp-ass cocksucker--”

“Tch,” Johnny scoffed and leveled his pistol at Craven’s head. The man went quiet again.

“ _Fine_ ,” the Wraith leader practically spat. “You win. I’m cryin’ fuckin’ uncle. Lemme up and I’ll tell the gang to give you whatever you want.”

“Well? Let him up, Ward,” Johnny smiled coldly.

River cast Johnny a look of deep doubt and mistrust, but he released his captive all the same. Craven staggered upright, straightening his jacket and dusting off his knees. 

“Smart move,” the boss said, regaining some of his customary, deeply vexing swagger. “‘Thout me, the gang’d six you both within the hour. So let’s fuckin’ talk, negotiate this shit--what do you assholes want, a truck? Guns? Eddies? Sample of the merchandise? One of my boys said he saw you two makin’ nice with a fuckable little thing--”

“Only want one thing from ya, Craven.” Silverhand said, grinning in anticipation. Getting here had taken way too damn long, but _damn_ if it wasn’t gonna feel good. “Take a bow, motherfucker.”

Craven’s lips parted in confusion just as a bullet tore a hole through his forehead and blew out the back of his skull. River jumped like a chick seeing a spider as he was splattered with secondhand brains, which was goddamn hilarious as far as Johnny was concerned.

“Fuckin’ hell!” The ex-cop surged to his feet, wiping his face on the sleeve of his coat. “What the fuck--no, I don’t give a shit what the fuck is wrong with you, I already fuckin’ know.” River spat on the floor. “Jesus _Christ_ , Johnny. This all part of your master plan too? What are we supposed to do now? We’re outnumbered in the order of dozens, not to mention the buyers on their way and whatever forces they bring. We got a handful of guns, your extremely fuckin’ limited hackin’ skills, a mine grid we might get locked out of any second, no escape route and no fuckin’ backup, and you just shot the only leverage we had!”

Johnny wasn’t really paying attention to the badge’s tirade. He was more interested in the small light blinking on the comms dashboard, next to a screen. Incoming holocall.

Kicking aside the various limbs strewn in his path, he took up position in front of the screen, his hand hovering over the switch that would answer the call. He could feel something strange growing within him, a giddy kind of terror that was ready to tip over an edge and plunge deep into… something else. It didn’t feel like any of it belonged to him.

_That you, kid?_

He hit the switch. The image of a man appeared on the screen--trim gray beard, eyes as cold and black as some extinct lizard, a pattern of laurel leaves tattooed around his bald head like a wreath--and a voice in his head whispered, _Franco_ , and as the whisper died the rage rose like a tide, like nothing he’d felt before, like a scream that never stopped, like a fire that scorched stone and melted chrome to slag, like every nerve in this body thrumming and snapping like guitar strings, and _pain, shitfuckshit it hurts--_

His vision whited out and he hit the deck hard.

Johnny opened his eyes. _His_ eyes, not V’s. He could tell because the ground was further away (he was standing again somehow?); not to mention when he looked down at it he saw his own legs, wearing his own leather pants. The strange pain and anger had subsided. “Fuck yeah,” he muttered, in his own gravelly smoker’s voice.

That was _who_ he was. The _where_ question was trickier.

The ground was gravel that crunched underfoot as he walked. The sky was big and open, no ‘scrapers or AVs to be seen. Walls of rock stretched up above and below him, forming the side of a mountain. Small, deep holes were everywhere--this had probably been a forest once, ‘fore organic pine got so rare that folks started digging up even the stumps to sell for a profit. Peering down the mountainside, Johnny saw what looked like two major highways crossing in the distance. Making this a preem spot for anyone planning to rob travelers. Like some nomad clans did.

_Shit._

He knew where he was now. This was the place from V’s nightmares. But in the dreams it was crowded and noisy, an overwhelming tide of color and sound. Now it was empty.

“Johnny?”

Not quite empty. The man rounded a boulder and found himself facing an arena, of sorts. A ring big enough for several cars parked end-to-end was drawn in the gravel, surrounded by shipping crates and other bits of junk stacked up to make tiered seating. A high chain link fence encircled the center ring. Standing in the middle of the ring was…

“V?” Silverhand quickened his pace, entering the ring through a gate, which swung shut behind him. _Not ominous at all._ “Fuck’s going on here, kid?”

She was naked but it wasn’t even a little bit sexy, because she was also covered in blood. Not hers; she didn’t seem to be injured. She was clutching a knife and swaying slightly.

“Johnny…” Her gaze was vague and distant at first, before it zeroed in on him and narrowed in a flash of anger. She lashed out with the knife, and Silverhand barely dodged it in time, feeling the breeze off the blade touch his cheek.

“What the fuck, V?! What’s your damage?”

“My _damage_ …” The woman let out a short, bitter laugh. She raised the knife to point at him, leveling the blade so it was parallel to the ground. “You’re my damage, Silverhand. You did this to me.”

Johnny lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay. But say, for the sake of argument, that I have no idea what the fuck you’re talkin’ about… what exactly did I do?”

“You shut me out!” she snarled. “Trapped me here. In this hellhole.” She flicked her wrist in a gesture to indicate the arena, and blood from her skin spattered the earth.

_Shiiiiiit._

“V,” Johnny said carefully and calmly, like he was soothing a hungry predator. “I didn’t want to shut you out. Fact is, I’ve been tryin’ to find you for days, callin’ out… how come you never answered me?”

“Because I couldn’t hear you, asshole! I couldn’t see or hear or feel _anything_ but memories, ‘til just a bit ago.” She stopped, her gaze drifting off to the middle distance again. “Thought I saw River…”

“You did,” Johnny hastened to affirm. “‘Least--I was lookin’ at him and I thought I felt you feel… scared.”

“Yeah. Looked like he was in trouble.” V frowned, almost like her usual self for a second. “Is River in trouble, Johnny?”

“...yeah. We both are, kinda,” the engram admitted. “But it’s trouble that you could solve, if you took over the body. We need you, V.”

With a growl, she launched herself at him again. This time Silverhand couldn’t dodge her fast enough--but it turned out not to matter, since her knife passed through his flesh as easily as if he were still a digital holo. She kept stabbing him though, and he kept flinching out of reflex, especially when she got near his face. 

“Fuck you, Silverhand! If I could fuckin’ take my body back I would’ve done it! You think I want to be here?! With _her_?!”

Johnny froze mid-flinch. “With who?” he asked, puzzled. Leaning around the angry merc, he saw someone curled up on the ground behind her. He took a step forward, but stopped abruptly as V dropped the knife to clutch her head in her hands and scream.

_**“Don’t you fucking touch her!”** _

He felt her words echo through their shared mindscape as more than sound, as an inescapable edict, as a throbbing wound ripped through his core. He stepped back, spreading his empty hands wide. “Okay. It’s okay, V.”

She was breathing hard and her eyes were wild. “It is so far from fucking okay, Silverhand. What you did to me… you broke your promise. Pistis Sophia, remember?”

Johnny remembered. “Said I wouldn’t do you wrong. I meant it. I only took over to _save_ you from what they were doin’--what they did--”

“To my _body_ , Johnny!” V burst out. “Body’s mine, but it ain’t _me_. ‘Case you missed it somehow, a lot of fucked up shit has happened to it. Shit that hurts, but not shit that _matters_ , ‘cuz in the end… no one can touch the parts of me that matter unless I let ‘em.” Her glare blazed hot enough to burn down the forest, if there had still been one there. “No one except _you_.”

“Well excuse the fuck out of me for carin’!” Johnny glared right back, folding his arms. It had been a shitty couple weeks and looked to be getting shittier. He was sick of this place already. “Didn’t realize you were so damn gung-ho to be raped and enslaved. But that’s kind of a thing for you, ain’t it? Turns you on.” He bared his teeth in an ugly grin. “Silly me, spoilin’ the fun.”

It was V’s turn to flinch, lowering her gaze. Her voice went flat and quiet. “You’re a goddamn monster, Johnny.”

“Yeah. I know. Narcissist. Egomaniac. Deserter. Liar. Cheater. Terrorist. Murderer. Empathy capacity of a woodchipper, remember? And none of it bothered me a damn bit ‘til I met you. Bein’ in your head has been the most fuckin’ miserable experience of my life.”

“That makes two of us.” V’s hands were tightening into fists.

Johnny scowled. She didn’t understand. “What I mean is--you’re everything I’m not, V. And sometimes I hate you so goddamn much for makin’ me know what I’m not, feel how much I’m missin’.” Silverhand dropped his arms to his sides. “I was barely fit to be called human _before_ I died and got shoved into a chip. Now I’m… even less than that. I’m a code, a fuckin’ program, and if the only thing I can do in this goddamn worthless second life of mine is spare you a bit of pain, I’m gonna fuckin’ do it. Even if you hate me for it.”

“Johnny…” 

“Yeah?”

V’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t hate you. I should, but I don’t. All the terrible things that you are… they’re true. But you’re also my friend. The only person who keeps me company in this fucked up head of mine. The guy who saved my life.”

“I haven’t--”

“You have, Johnny. More than once.” V sighed, but she didn’t elaborate. “So I trust you. Beyond any rational measure. Even here, after all this. You’re my friend, and I trust you. The question now is… do you trust me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You gotta let go, Johnny,” V whispered. “Let go of the idea of savin’ me, protectin’ me from anything that might hurt. You can’t, and you’ll drown us both tryin’. Trust me instead--trust I can stand on my own, and when I can’t, trust that I’ll reach out for the help I need. Won’t always be you I reach for--but sometimes it will be. If you’re standin’ beside me ‘stead of in front of me. We make a good team.”

“...can’t argue that,” the rockerboy muttered.

“You were kinda right, back at the burrito place, y’know. Also kind of an asshole, but kinda right.”

“That’s my brand, but you’re gonna need to specify.”

“Heh... I was hidin’, and lyin’ to myself about it. Told myself I was pullin’ away from folks to keep from hurtin’ ‘em when I go, but really I was the one scared of gettin’ hurt. Scared of the nights alone in my head, countin’ the hours I got left and tormenting myself with everythin’ I got to lose. I’m… fuckin’ terrified, Johnny.” V raked a hand through her hair, smearing blood across her scalp. “‘Course you picked up on that. ‘Course you would try to protect me. ‘Cuz, buried under all the awful shit you say and do… there’s a good man that you’re doin’ your damnedest to smother ‘fore he gets your heart broken again.”

“Hey. Rude.” The engram folded his arms and tilted his head, smirking as he peered at her over the rims of his aviators. “Implyin’ I ever had a heart.”

He expected V to laugh, but she didn’t. “You do, Johnny. I can feel it, beatin’ in time with mine.” The woman pressed a hand to her chest, right over the organ in question.

Silverhand let out a pained groan. “Jesus Christ, V. You can’t say sappy shit like that ‘thout at least four shots down and a live mike in your hand. Backing vocals too, ideally.”

The merc remained unchastened, immune to his disdain. She met his gaze and held it, all pride and determination. “We gotta do things different, from now on. Both of us. No more lyin’, to ourselves or each other. No more savin’ each other from shit we don’t wanna be saved from. You’re more than a program to me, and I know I’m more to you than just some dumbass kid whose brain you’re stuck in. Doesn’t matter who we are to the world--only matters who we are to each other. Now, Silverhand--do you fuckin’ trust me, or not?”

Johnny gritted his teeth. There were words he wanted to say--so many of them. But even all of them put together weren’t enough. So all he said was, “I trust you, V.”

She smiled, and held her hand out to him. On instinct, he took it, and felt the warmth and pressure of her skin against his like the shock of lightning or the strength of a tide.

“Then _let go_.”


	23. V) Mad, Bad, and Dangerous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** confronting an abuser.
> 
> -KB

### V

The first thing V saw was River. His face hovered above hers, all compassion and concern, and she felt the warmth of his hand on her cheek.

“Hey, handsome,” she murmured, smiling.

“V…” River’s voice cracked and fell to a whisper. “It’s you.”

She caught his hand and covered it with her own, interlacing their fingers and squeezing tight. “It’s me,” she agreed. She started to sit up and he moved to help her, supporting her back as she rose from the floor. “We got a lot to catch up on. But I need you to do something for me first.”

“Anything,” River said, and she honestly believed the man meant it literally.

“Just… stay down, for a minute. Don’t say anything, don’t get caught on camera. Somethin’ I gotta do.” V set her jaw and hoisted herself the rest of the way to standing. River looked puzzled but he nodded, and stepped back. Once he was out of frame, V took a breath and flipped the switch that would turn on the mic and camera set into the comms array. Letting Franco see and hear her as clearly as she did him.

“Ave Imperator,” she said, in a voice as harsh and barren as the desert itself.

The man on the screen smiled. It was not a kind expression. “So, Craven… you found one of my little dolls after all. I appreciate the chance to confirm it before I arrive with the payment, but it wasn’t necessary. I know you to be a man of your word.” His voice was soft, insinuating--almost gentle, though V knew plenty well that the man was anything but.

“‘Bout that.” V reached down and grabbed the collar of Craven’s jacket, hauling the corpse into view of the camera. Its head lolled unpleasantly on its neck, streams of dark blood trickling from the bullet hole in its forehead. “Craven is indisposed. You’ll be dealin’ with me direct.”

Franco leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows rising in mild surprise. “How interesting. I suppose his control mechanism was faulty. No substitute for the… personal touch.”

V could feel his voice crawling along her skin like his hands used to, and she wanted to shudder and scream but she forced herself to perfect stillness instead. Perfectly blank, perfectly empty. An impersonation of the doll he’d made of her.

Her hand closed around Craven’s neck, synthetic muscle and metal crushing in an inexorable grip until human bone gave way with an audible _snap._ V let the corpse’s ear rest on its shoulder for a moment before she dropped the body, without ever tearing her gaze from the screen or betraying a single tic of a facial expression. 

“Your control mechanism won’t work either, old man,” she said. “Ripped that chip outta my head years ago. Got a few other upgrades since last you saw me, too.” She held up her bloodstained hand and let it curl into a fist. “Titanium bones, reinforced synth muscles, and a preem sub-dermal weave, so I don’t break easy. I can move so quick and quiet that a whole fuckin’ team of Arasaka security with top-tier chrome can’t spot me. Got a cyberdeck loaded with quickhacks and the netrunnin’ experience it takes to use ‘em proper. I can fry the synapses of any borged-out gonk I see, and these,” she tapped her temple, near her eye, “These’re Kiroshi, so I can see pretty fuckin’ far. In thermal and infrared, even.”

“Model Five is trying to intimidate me, I believe.” Franco steepled his fingers. “Adorable.” Despite the breezy dismissal in his tone, V knew this asshole pretty fucking well, and she saw the tension in his shoulders and the uneasy way he studied her. She was getting to him.

“That’s not even the best part. See, all that time I spent in the ring, all those combat programs you loaded me with? I was payin’ attention. Learned to fight without ‘em, usin’ the muscle memory and reflexes they taught me. So think back to some favorite performance or other. Then imagine the finale, the crowd chantin’, some unlucky bastard bleedin’ into the dirt and me standin’ over ‘em, with a knife or a wire or a bat or a spear or a goddamn rusty chainsaw, ready to finish it in one blow or take ‘em apart slow, waitin’ on you to stretch out your hand and gimme the signal." V leaned forward and growled into the mic. "Now imagine you’re the one in the dirt, and that I ain’t waitin’ on _any damn signal_.”

The old man frowned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. V pressed harder, fixing the cam with a blazing glare. “I can’t fuckin’ wait to see you, _Imperator_ ,” she sneered, treating the pretentious title with all the lack of respect it deserved. “I got so many new tricks to show you. Not to mention some old favorites. But don’t worry--I’ll make sure we have time for _everything_.” She cracked her knuckles slowly and deliberately. “I remember _exactly_ what you like. There’ll be blood and tears enough to satisfy... at least one of us. I promise.”

The screen flicked off as Franco abruptly ended the holocall.

V blew out a deep sigh and leaned heavily on the console for support. She felt like she’d been sprinting for hours through a goddamn minefield. The mental image reminded her of the very literal field of mines that was also something she had to deal with in the near future.

River had found a first aid kit stuffed under the console and was wrapping a bandage around what looked like a minor bullet graze on his upper arm. He shot her an interrogatory glance, still following her request that he not speak but clearly wondering if it was over yet. V shook her head and held up a finger as she adjusted the settings on the comms array. “I know. Lots to unpack. Just one more thing first.”

The comms rang a couple of times before the screen blipped to life on an image of a woman’s face half-buried in a pillow. “Fuuuuck, V, what fuckin’ time is it?”

V couldn’t help the grin that stole onto her face. “Too damn early, as always. Sorry, Pan.”

Panam groaned and rolled over, propping an elbow under her to help her sit up. Her frizzy abundance of dark hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back, free of her usual practical bun. “All right, hit me. Bad news first.”

“Bad news is, I need you to rally up a raiding party. Weapons hot and plenty of room for extra passengers and cargo on the way back.”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Ugh--Saul is not gonna be happy,” Panam muttered, starting the process of tying back her hair.

“Well, start with the good news when you tell him,” V suggested.

“Which is?”

“Place we’re raiding--it’s a Raffen Shiv base. Not only that, it’s a hub for the flesh trade, so there’s supplies and fresh water to last a few hundred for a good while. And I’ve got admin access to their defense grid.”

Panam whistled softly. “Okay, that’s more like it. Think I can sell him on that. How many Raffen are we talkin’?”

V shut her eyes, letting her cyberdeck tap into the signal connected to the comms tower, and follow it from there to the gang’s central internal servers, and from there to the receivers of every soul wired into the system. “Forty-nine still breathin’, five of which are locked in a basement and not likely to make a fuss.”

Panam’s brow furrowed. “Still. Forty-four is too many. I doubt I can rally more’n maybe twenty of ours, considerin’ the short notice.”

“There’ll be less than that by the time you get here.” V had spotted a sniper rifle leaned against the railing, next to a small crate of ammo. “A lot less.”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy, V.” Despite her words, Panam sounded more admiring than admonishing.

“Damn straight. Mad, bad, and dangerous to know.” V smirked. “I’ll flick ya the location and the details of their defenses. Two words: fuckin’ mines. Should have most of ‘em down before you and yours get close, but maybe don’t drive over the spots I’ve flagged anyway, just in case.”

“Roger that. Anything else Saul doesn’t need to know until it’s too late?”

“There’s about two hundred people held prisoner here. I’m guessing most of ‘em will be happy to commandeer the Raffen’s trucks and go their own ways, but the Aldecaldos might have some guests at camp for a while. The supplies we klep from here should more than pay for their keep, but if you need money to help resettle them, y’know I’m good for the eddies.”

“Yeah, I know. You and your goddamn charity cases. Fuck… this is gonna be a logistical nightmare.” Panam rubbed her temples like she felt a headache coming on.

“Look at you, all in charge and shit, usin’ big words like ‘logistical,’” V teased. “What happened to that scruffy chick who couldn’t steal her own car back without help from some gonk-ass merc?”

“Gonk-ass merc sweet-talked her into takin’ some responsibility and her life went to shit from there,” Panam grumbled. V knew she wasn’t as pissed as she pretended to be. 

“Thanks, Pan. Not for organizing the raid or anything--far as I can tell, I’m doin’ you a favor, tippin’ you off to where all this good scop is. But you are gettin’ out of bed ‘fore noon ‘cuz I called, which truly warms the heart.” V pressed a hand to her chest in a melodramatic display of emotion.

Panam yawned as she flipped V the bird. “Get fucked. I’ll see ya soon.”

“See ya, Pan.”

The call ended, and V fiddled with the comms until she managed to beam Panam the map and notes about the compound’s defenses she’d promised. Receipt confirmed, she finally turned back to River. “Okay. We got a minute to breathe--”

Breathing clearly wasn’t on River’s mind. Wasn’t really on V’s either, as her input’s strong arms wrapped around her, and their lips met and tongues slipped past teeth, tasting and drinking and tangling together, a silent conversation of heat and need. She wound her arms around his neck and hung on for dear life, rejoicing in what she could hear, smell, touch, taste--it was all real and it was all _him_. Warm skin, broad shoulders, big hands, the scents of the sun-baked desert layered over his own musk, the gentle rumble of his groans, the scrape of his stubble against her cheek… V was drowning in him, in the best way.

After an era or two (and still not long enough), they parted. V was sick and dizzy with how much she’d missed him, not to mention how much she _wanted_ him. Wanted to tear away their clothes and every other barrier that lay between them, slam their flesh together in slick heat and the violence of passion until _me_ and _you_ were useless words, a distinction of the past while the present was only _us_. She could see the same thoughts reflected in River’s eyes, read them there as clearly as a printed page.

But the timing wasn’t ideal. Inconvenient phrases like ‘enemy territory’ and ‘vastly outnumbered’ and ‘how long before backup arrives’ were rudely shoving their way into her brain and disrupting all the warm fuzzies. Not to mention, when her senses weren’t totally overwhelmed by River, there was the noticeable stench in the air of people’s insides becoming their outsides. Glancing down at the angle of Craven’s pulverized neck, V suddenly felt a lot less fuzzy.

Corpses had a way of killing the mood.

River seemed to be reaching a similar conclusion. He followed V’s gaze to the bodies on the ground and grimaced. “So… about that ‘lots to catch up on’ you mentioned…”

“Got a highlight reel from Johnny when I tagged in. They’re the assholes who captured us and wanted to sell me back to Franco. We’re at the top of a comms tower in their base, and we need to hold out until Panam and her clan get here.” She looked over at the sniper rifle she’d noticed earlier. “Think we can make it work. Only way up is that staircase, which is rigged to blow if we need some space. Main thing I’m worried about is buyers comin’--might have an AV, or some other tech the Raffen don’t, which’d make this less of a cozy nest and more of a death trap.”

“I’d be surprised if that Franco asshole still showed up to buy,” River commented. “You shook him up hard.”

V’s hands squeezed into fists, painfully tight until she forced them to relax. “Not as hard as I’d like. Just wanted to give him and his crew a chance to pause and reconsider their choices in life. Such as, whether they wanna continue livin’ it.” She grinned at River, but it faded quickly. “Honestly, I… it took every damn bit of me to make that call. Still don’t feel right about it. What I want more’n almost anything is to feel that bastard choke and die under my hands. Him comin’ here was a chance… kind I might never get again.”

“Why’d you scare him off, then?” River’s tone wasn’t judgemental, just inquisitive.

“Don’t know what kind of crew he’s runnin’ with, or the type of firepower they got. Gonna have our hands full enough with the Raffen Shiv--I didn’t wanna risk gettin’ people down in the camp hurt or worse ‘cuz I wanted revenge so bad I bit off more than I could swallow.” V went to run a hand through her hair, but stopped when she noticed the blood clinging to her skin. She started picking off the dry, red-brown flakes instead.

“You’re a good person, V.” River reached out to brush his fingers against her temple, and offered her a sideways smile that V couldn’t help but return.

“I’m tryin’, River,” she murmured. “Some days it hurts more than others.”

“It’s like that for everyone,” River assured her.

“Yeah? Even you?”

“Especially me. Fuck, V--if doin’ the right thing always felt good, then everyone’d be doin’ it and we’d have some kind of fucked-up sunshine-and-puppies world on our hands.” River grinned impishly at her.

V laughed, for the first time in a long time. It felt nice. “Perish the goddamn thought,” she said, smiling for real now. “All right. Lemme focus. Figure two hours for Panam to convince who needs convincin’ and rally what needs rallyin’. Four hours’ drive from the main Aldecaldo camp to here. So we’re holdin’ here for at least six hours. No food, might be some water in those jugs over there if we’re lucky. Plenty of guns and ammo, though only one with the kind of range that’ll be useful from this high up.” 

She closed her eyes briefly, following the lines of code and pulses of electricity that tied her into the defense grid. “I can start pickin’ off Wraiths with mines and turrets. If I’m careful about it, should be able to take out a decent chunk of ‘em ‘fore they wise up and cluster in that bunker, away from the tech. Once they’re all together, I can zip ‘em a viral package that spreads by proximity. Most of ‘em should be passed out or pukin’ by the time Panam gets here.” She felt confident that her skills were up to the task, but still a little uneasy. There was not a lot of margin for error in a two versus forty-four battle royale.

Fortunately, her partner was the best in the game. “I’ll see what I can do to fortify this place some. Cover the windows so they can’t get a clear shot at us. Keep an eye on the stairs and monitor the walkie-talkie chatter, ‘case anyone decides to send up a welcoming party.” River frowned and nudged Craven’s leg with his boot. “Guess I should take the trash out, too.”

“That’d be sweet of ya,” V agreed. “Keep him hidden if you can, though. Longer it takes them to realize he’s dead, the better for us. Check in on the camp now and then, too, ‘case they’re smart enough to start takin’ hostages. Ever used a sniper rifle before?”

“Not since basic training. Not really my thing. Reckon I could make do if need be, though. Just point and shoot, right?” His tone made it clear he was kidding; he knew it was more complicated than that.

A sudden, absurd image occurred to V; a memory of Jackie wiggling his fingers and smirking, telling her to _feel the string_. It made her smile, and was only a little bit devastating. “Watch your breathing. Keep it steady, and fire when the reticle stops movin’ on the exhale. Don’t get too fancy with pickin’ your targets--those are .30 caliber rounds, you don’t need a headshot to put someone down hard. And don’t stare at one spot for more than about fifteen seconds, or your vision’ll start lyin’ to ya about how close it is.”

River snapped her a regulation-sharp salute. “Aye, captain. Let’s get to work.”


	24. V) A Long Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to anyone who was expecting an action chapter and is disappointed by me skipping to the end. This one is pure banter and friendship fluff. Next chapter is back to River's POV, and it's fluff and smut! One after that is fluff and angst and V's full backstory revealed! I am quite excited for the next few days and I hope y'all will like them too. :D
> 
> -KB

### V

At the base of the comms tower, V and Panam clasped each other’s forearms. The Aldecaldos’ co-leader smirked as she used the grip to pull the merc into a fierce hug. “You hardly left any for us, you asshole.”

V smiled and rested her head on Panam’s shoulder, the other woman’s hair tickling her nose. “Snooze you lose, Pan. I warned ya.”

Around them, the Aldecaldo convoy was loading up their new bounty of guns, rations, and water. There was a considerable amount of both hooting and hollering. The few Wraiths left alive after V’s methodical scourge of the gang had been rounded up by the nomads and locked in the bunker with no plans to let them out. V didn’t relish killing, and she avoided it whenever she could.

Slavers were an exception.

Panam must’ve caught something in V’s voice, because when she pulled back from the hug she looked slightly concerned. “You okay, V? Not bleeding out or nothin’?”

“I’m fine. Well--tired. Really fucking exhausted, actually. Heh…” V scrubbed her eye with the heel of her hand. She’d overclocked her cyberdeck and was paying for it with the buzzing heat and pounding pressure building up in her skull. But it was worth it. It was over.

They had fucking _won_.

Panam slung an arm around her shoulders. “Glad you ain’t in mortal peril, ‘cuz once we get back to camp with all this crap, there’s gonna be a helluva fiesta. You’ll get to see how we Aldecaldos _really_ let loose.”

“If the rest of ‘em are anythin’ like you, they’ll be sloppy drunk two beers in and beggin’ me to play with their hair,” V ribbed, laughing as Panam gave her shoulder a hard shove.

“That was one time, and I told you, I was doin’ shots before you showed up!”

“Uh-huh. Likely story.” V’s cheeks hurt from how wide she was grinning. Her merriment faded a bit as her gaze fell on the refugee camp in the distance. Folks there were packing up to leave, organizing themselves into groups by direction of travel, hugging and crying and saying their farewells. 

River had gone over there to help and to make sure Lupe and Miguel had somewhere safe. V didn’t feel quite right joining him, since she’d never actually met the woman that Johnny-as-V had apparently kind of bonded with, by some fucking cosmic miracle. She also didn’t speak Spanish as well as Johnny did. Learned some as a kid and knew enough to get by at the Welles’ family dinner table, but the rockerboy’s easy, conversational fluency was beyond her. She figured it might weird Lupe out to talk to someone who had apparently overnight had their vocabulary cut in half and their accent gone to shit.

“I could translate.”

A blur of light blue pixelation in her peripheral vision indicated Johnny’s arrival on the scene. V didn’t look at him or react outwardly, but she responded in her head.

_‘Up to you. She’s your friend; we can go say goodbye to her if you want to.’_

To V’s surprise, Johnny actually seemed to consider it. “Nah,” he said at last. “Let the badge do the heavy liftin’ there. It’ll be funnier anyway. Hey, when he gets back, ask him what he said. Bet you ten eddies it’ll be ‘hasta la vista, baby.’ Those exact words.”

_‘Johnny. All your money is my money. You can’t bet me my own eddies.’_

“Bet me a cig, then. One smoke, and you take the time to enjoy it.” The engram seemed undaunted by V’s dismissal. She found she was starting to smile again.

_‘Fine. And what do I get if I win? Which, to be clear, I do if River said anything at all other than ‘hasta la vista, baby.’’_

“If you win, I’ll, uh… show you how to fix the sound system in your shitty car?” he suggested, smirking slyly.

_‘You mean you’ve known how to do that this entire time?! Ten thousand repeats of Mambo Number Fucking Five could have been avoided?! Jesus fucking CHRIST, Johnny!’_

“Sounds like we got ourselves a bet.” Unperturbed by V’s wrath, the engram lit himself a digital cigarette and blew holo-smoke into the dry desert wind. “Nova.”

“Hey, Panam! Come take a look at this!” One of the Aldecaldos was waving at his boss from a distance. Panam sighed and disentangled herself from V, where she’d basically been taking a cat nap on the merc’s shoulder.

“Duty calls. Even though it’s probably just a load of old porn.”

“The troops know when the general is needed in the field,” V teased her friend.

“More like they know how to take every opportunity to give the general shit. Honestly, startin’ to think they gave me this job ‘cuz Saul has this airtight poker face and they wanted somebody who would actually react to their juvenile fuckin’ stunts.” Panam shook her slightly, smiling. “Whatever. You ridin’ back with me, V?”

“Depends. Got room for three? My input’s here too.”

Panam’s smile turned sly. “Big guy you were with earlier? Hot damn, I’ve been lookin’ forward to this.”

“Christ, Pan, you make it sound like you’re gonna eat him or something,” V groaned as she worked her fingers into the sore muscles at the base of her neck.

“Nah--too much beef for me. I like ‘em slim and _pliable_.” Panam waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and V let out a hearty chuckle. “Leave the eatin’ to you. I just wanna ask him a few innocent questions. Like, ‘what’s the most embarrassing thing V’s ever said in her sleep? Or screamed while she came?’”

V took a playful swing at Panam, who ducked out of reach, snickering. “Try it and die, Pan.”

“Gotta catch me to kill me, merc! See you and the beef when we ride out.” The nomad woman waved jauntily as she strode off to inspect whatever illicit goods required her attention. Which left V on her own, since Johnny had vaporized into the digital ether at some point. She walked over to the nearest nomad she recognized--Carol--and started helping her load up her truck. 

Carol wasn’t one for small talk, to the point that V had wondered in the past if the woman secretly disliked her and didn’t want her around. Then one day she’d overheard Carol talking to an ex-girlfriend, and quickly realized that the older woman had _zero_ problem with making her dislike for someone public knowledge. She just didn’t feel the need to fill the air with chatter to make other people more comfortable. V could respect that--sometimes even appreciated it. Like now. 

She used the silence to take a kind of physical and mental inventory. Besides the damn headache her cyberware was giving her, she felt, surprisingly… pretty good. Better than she had in a while, even before the kidnapping shenanigans began. Her body was responding to her like it was supposed to, the Relic hadn’t malfunctioned all day, and she’d managed to stand up for herself in the face of the guy who haunted most of her dreams. Maybe even given _him_ fuel for a nightmare or two. Pretty fucking nova, if she did say so herself.

There were bruises on her ribs she could feel when she moved, but nothing cracked or broken. Johnny had taken pretty good care of her, especially considering the strung-out mess she’d been the last time she was conscious. Some fading electrode burns and needle marks were all that remained of her time at the asylum--except for a janky file that was jamming her satellite communications. She hadn’t noticed it earlier because there was no way that sat comms could reach a personal receiver out here in the middle of nowhere anyway, so she hadn’t bothered trying. Taking a quick break to drink water and sit in the long shadows of late afternoon, she ran a diagnostic and cleared her cache, rebooting the relevant systems until the jammer was expunged completely.

Another thing she noticed, as she got back to work, was the familiar weight and motion of Johnny’s dog tags hanging around her neck. She distinctly remembered them being confiscated along with all the rest of her clothes and weapons at the asylum. But she drew them from beneath her shirt, and there they were, shining in the sun, edges a little more smoke-blackened than they used to be but otherwise perfectly intact. Her hand curled around them and she squeezed tightly for a moment, feeling the raised text of the inscriptions digging into her palm.

“Didn’t think I’d let you get rid of ‘em that easy, didja?” Johnny smirked, glitching into existence with his arms folded, leaning casually against a shipping container. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

_‘Wasn’t gonna thank you; they’re your symbolic shit anyway.’_ V lifted a flat of bottled water onto a stack of similar items on the truck bed.

“They’re _our_ symbolic shit. Know how I know? ‘Cuz if you wanted to wear a symbolic necklace, you got that bullet amulet from Misty. Made for _you_ , by _your_ close friend, out of _the thing that killed ya_. Doesn’t get more personally symbolic than that. Fact that you’re wearin’ these instead… means I mean more to you than you do. Which is frankly touchin’, V. I’m touched.” He did not look touched; he looked like a smug, sardonic bastard.

“Not lovin’ this all-new, emotionally literate version of Johnny Silverhand,” V muttered aloud unintentionally.

Carol looked over at her from the other side of the truck, where she was packing cargo into the passenger seat. “Hm? You say somethin’, V?”

“Just talkin’ to myself like a gonk, Carol, no worries.”

“Yeah, no worries, Carol,” Johnny parroted blithely, like an asshole. The nomad woman grunted and went back to what she was doing, and the rockerboy continued to inflict himself on V. “What’s not to love? Feels like we’re understandin’ each other so much better now. Should we hug? I think we should hug.”

Thankfully for V’s sanity, River had returned from the camp and was approaching the truck. She shot him a relieved smile. “Hey. How’d it go?”

“Ah, you know…” River lifted his shoulders in a shrug, grinning sheepishly. “Ineloquently. But I found out where they’re headed--east, with one of the larger migrant groups. Bound for Atlanta. Numbers and weapons klepped from the Wraiths should keep ‘em from bein’ easy targets for any other predators out there. Gave Lupe my number and asked her to call whenever she could… I think.”

“What exactly did you say to her, when you said goodbye?” V asked, and River gave her a puzzled look. She hastened to clarify, “This is for a bet.”

“Ahh. Um… muchas, muchas gracias. Espero… hasta luego. Adios.”

“Hah!” V stabbed a finger at Johnny, her expression triumphant.

The engram looked unimpressed. “Terrible grammar.”

“Not about the grammar; he didn’t say the words, so you lost! Suck my entire dick, Johnny.” V folded her arms and smirked--a pose that was an uncanny echo of Johnny’s. She noticed too late and decided to pretend she hadn’t at all.

River was looking from V to… the empty space that V was arguing with, presumably. “Bet was with Silverhand, I take it?”

“Who else?” V rolled her eyes. “He was pretty convinced you’d go with ‘hasta la vista, baby.’”

“Why the fuck would I say that?”

The engram vanished and reappeared, circling River unseen like some kind of panther-shark hybrid. Not that V had ever actually been near an example of either animal, but she was given to understand they were both prone to circling behavior. “‘Cuz I was creditin’ the gonk here with some basic cinematic taste. My mistake, I guess.”

V raised an eyebrow. “Movie reference, apparently? I dunno, Johnny’s really fuckin’ old.”

River’s mouth pulled sideways into a knowing smirk. “Uh-huh. Which one of us is he glarin’ harder at right now?”

“Me before you said that, now it’s you.” V grinned at the affronted look on Johnny’s face. “Guess you two got the chance to get to know each other, huh?”

“You could say that,” both men said at the same time, in the same utterly deadpan tone. V cracked up and started laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.

“It ain’t that funny, V,” Silverhand groused. 

“What’s so funny?” River asked at almost the same moment.

“Nothin’, I just… feel like we’re all _understandin’_ each other so much better now.” V threw Johnny’s words from earlier back at him with an extra helping of smug. The engram flipped her off. She blew him a kiss, but he was already gone. So she grabbed River by the collar and pulled him down for a different kind of kiss.

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. The Aldecaldos stuffed their rides to the gills with supplies and all the former prisoners who were headed back to the city. The other ex-captives organized themselves into caravans by direction of travel, each group taking possession of an 18-wheeler as well as a few of the Wraiths’ personal vehicles that were parked at the compound. V watched the last of the big-rigs' dust trails fade into the distance, before she climbed into Panam’s Thorton and shut the door. “Let’s ride.”

“Hell yeah,” Panam agreed cheerfully. River was folded up sideways in the back seat. The big man looked more than slightly ridiculous stuffed back there among the supplies, but V had offered to let him take the front and he had flat-out refused. Which was really silly, and hopelessly sweet.

“Here--from Lupe.” River nudged her elbow to get her attention and handed her a bracelet braided out of brightly-colored string. “I got one too.” He proudly displayed the similar strand tied around his wrist. “She made ‘em out of threads she picked from the blanket we slept on. So we’d remember her and Miguel by the threads, and they’d remember us by the places threads used to be, she said.”

V smiled, suddenly overwhelmed with admiration and affection for a complete stranger. She regretted not getting to meet her, a little bit. “Thanks, River. Did you tell her thanks from--from us, too?” _Me and Johnny both._

“I did. Well as I could, anyway.”

“Good.” V looped the bracelet around her wrist and tied a knot. More symbolic shit. _This keeps up, I’ll be a walkin’ museum of artifacts from people who meant somethin’ to me._ She didn’t exactly hate the idea.

“So… the infamous River Ward,” Panam said, all delighted mischief.

“The notorious Panam Palmer,” River said with a friendly smile, nodding an acknowledgement in the rearview mirror.

“We have _so much_ to talk about.”

V groaned and slumped back, resting her head on the window glass. It was gonna be a long trip.


	25. R) What We Have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** Smut ahoy! But it's a bit tamer this time so if chapters 5 & 6 were good then nothing here should bother you.
> 
> ...this might be my favorite chapter. >.>;
> 
> -KB

### River

River had spent considerably more time around the Aldecaldos than the average Night Citizen had, what with Joss marrying one, and how frequently the clan’s outriders stopped by the trailer park. Even so, he’d never been invited to sit by one of their fires. Nomads were clannish by definition, and the Aldecaldos especially so even among their peers. “Easier to gain a cobra’s trust than an Aldecaldo’s,” was a phrase he’d heard thrown around a time or two. Joss’s husband, while he was alive, had kept his family and his work for the clan as separate as a sleazy corpo might’ve kept his mistress and his wife.

But here River was, basking in the welcome heat of an Aldecaldo bonfire, perched on a worn-out couch with springs digging into his ass through the sagging cushions. The hard-eyed, suspicious men and women in biker leathers he was familiar with from the trailer park had transformed into laughing, dancing, drinking, swaying shadows. A scratchy radio was playing the thumping drums and twanging strings of 30 Principales, accompanied live by the loosely reinterpreted musical stylings of a big guy with an acoustic guitar. 

People kept handing River beers. He was working on his second, and the other bottles accumulated in a cluster at his feet. None of them were cold, but none of them were the cheap carbonated piss that passed for beer in the city, either.

One of his booze-providing benefactors was a guy in a cowboy hat, and River made a joke about how they should be natural enemies, and they got to talking. The guy’s name was Cassidy--a friend of V’s, River realized after the introduction. The old cowboy was good company, and a former lawman himself. Soon enough they were swapping tales, and comparing notes between policing a big city borough and a frontier town. Dumb-ass criminals were a universal constant, it seemed.

“So the gonk actually tried to collect on his own bounty?” River asked, incredulous.

Cassidy grinned, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Sure did. Walked into the station, bold as brass, pointed at the wanted poster on the wall and then at his face, and demanded his eddies! In cash, no less.”

River let out a hearty laugh. “Christ, all balls and no brains on that one.”

“Damn straight. Said he needed the money to fund his ‘getaway’ with his girl. Like goin’ on the run was some romantic road trip.” The cowboy sliced the tip off a fat cigar and lit it. “Too many damn desperado BDs, I swear.”

“Same thing happens in NC--dumb kids who decide crime’s their ticket to the glamourous life, thinkin’ once they get away with somethin’, they can get away with anythin’. We had this one asshole…” The corner of River’s mouth drew up in a slow smirk as he remembered. “Robbed a few bodegas and got caught on cam. We put the photo around, and the guy saw it and thought ‘y’know what, that ain’t my most flattering angle, I’ll send ‘em a better shot.’”

Cassidy guffawed. “Hah! Cocky little shit.”

“Oh yeah. Pic he sent was him all decked out in designer shades, stolen eddies on his lap and a half-naked joytoy draped over each shoulder. Real wannabe pimp shit. ‘Course, we ran facial recog on the girls, found the club they worked at, and they were just as happy to take our money and turn him in as they’d been to take his and pose with him.” River took a swig of beer and chuckled. “One of the guys in infosec blew up the photo and printed it out, stuck it on the wall in the asshole’s cell. Y’know, as a thank you for his service to the department.”

Both men laughed. Beyond the circle of firelight, River’s gaze landed on V’s form. She’d been busy since they arrived at camp; greeting friends, helping unload cargo, and the like. He’d lost track of her for a while. Not that he didn’t have plenty to keep him occupied too, getting cleaned up and having his injuries checked over by the camp ripper, making a few holocalls so folks knew he and V were safe.

Currently, the merc was smiling and talking animatedly to Panam and a guy named Mitch who’d shaken River’s hand earlier. Her vivid gestures suggested a reenactment of what happened in the control tower. At a pause in her story, she caught River looking, and her smile turned sly. She excused herself from the conversation and stalked towards the fire.

“Hey,” River murmured to her as her arms slipped softly around his shoulders and she dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

“Hey yourself,” she purred in his ear, warm breath caressing his neck. “Come dance with me.”

River cast an apologetic glance at Cassidy. “I’m back on duty, seems.”

“No rest for the wicked, nor those who chase ‘em neither.” Cassidy puffed out a ring of smoke and tipped the brim of his hat to River and V. “Enjoy the night, eh? You kids’ve earned it.”

“You too, Cass,” V chirped, helping haul River to his feet with strength that belied her size. Her hand clutched his ‘ganic one tight as they walked towards the music.

The night was cold but River barely felt it. Between the heat from the fires and from the bodies pulsing and twisting together in a cluster near the radio, he was plenty warm and getting warmer every second V drew nearer to him. She held out his arm and spun herself under it, laughing and swaying as she sank into the beat.

He put his hands on her hips and hers rested lightly on his chest, and they moved together, gently back and forth at first, and then into more complicated turns as their bodies learned each other’s rhythms. River was struck from out of nowhere by a memory of his mother, holding his hands as she guided him through the steps of an old dance--old when his ancestors were old, telling a story of the earth and the sky. The aching emptiness in River’s chest was only matched by the keen sweetness he felt there when he looked at V. 

She was limned in orange firelight, eyes bright with excitement, humming snatches of music under her breath as they moved. He let her take the lead, and she spun out of his grasp again, only to return and press closer. Her hips set the time, tilting smoothly with each drumbeat, and River followed as she guided him a little further away from the fire, out of reach of the other dancers. She spun away again, releasing his hand to catch his other one and twirl herself back in--this time, with her back to his chest. River swallowed hard, definitely not thinking of his mother anymore.

V’s hips ground against him, and his metal hand landed hard on one, sinking divots into her flesh to keep her there. She let out a little sigh of pleasure that River felt more than he heard, her hand stretching up behind her to stroke along his jaw. He turned his head slightly to press a kiss to her knuckles, his free hand tracing up her ribs and across her chest to her opposite shoulder, gripping there to pin her in place.

They moved the way he wanted to now, a harsher rhythm, tearing little gasps from V and soft grunts from him. Treble faded into bass, until only the lowest notes mattered, their twined bodies undulating like waves brushing the shore. River bent to kiss V’s neck and she tipped her head back to let him. The taste of sweat and campfire smoke lingered on her skin as River swirled his tongue over it. He drew more of her flesh into his mouth and slowly sank his teeth in. V’s breath stuttered into a moan, and she thrust hard back against him. He held her fast as their dance became more of a struggle, and her attempts to pull away from the pain of the bite only drove his teeth in deeper and her ass into his cock.

When V let out a frantic whimper, River released his bite, though he kept his mouth over the spot where a bruise was beginning to form, prodding with his tongue the dents made with his teeth. Each exploratory flick drew a shiver from V, and River smiled.

“Need anythin’ ‘fore this gets messy?” he asked quietly as he came up for air. “Water? Beer? There’s a shit-ton over by the--” He was halted by V’s mouth on his, the wily merc twisting in his grasp to face him.

“No thanks,” she murmured as she broke the kiss, smirking. “My input doesn’t sleep with drunk girls.”

“What an asshole.” River grinned, tilting his forehead down to rest against hers. They stayed like that for a moment, arms wrapped around each other in the dark, moving to the music that was soft enough to be a memory. “Where’d a wild thing like you pick up a square like that, anyway?” River asked, teasing.

“Checked my local police station, ordered the blue light special.” V’s finger traced the curve of River’s ear. Her smile was pure mischief, but her eyes were desire. “Square meals are the best kind, y’know.”

River exaggerated his groan theatrically. “Puns, V? Really? Thought they’d be beneath you.”

“Well, seein’ as you set up the line so nice for me an’ all--” V cleared her throat and said in a husky, faux-BD-sexpot voice, “Only thing I want beneath me is you, stud.”

River straightened quickly, scanning the area for some kind of privacy. He hated to admit it, but the cheesy porn voice was kinda doing it for him. Not to mention all the dancing, and kissing, and Christ it’d been weeks since he held her this close for this long--

“C’mon,” V said, and tugged on River’s hand, shunting the thundering train of his thoughts in a more productive direction. “I know a spot.”

“Thank fuck,” River muttered, obligingly letting her drag him alongside. “Was startin’ to think we’d have to commandeer a tent and hope not to get caught.”

“Got my own tent here, actually,” V said with good cheer. “But that ain’t where we’re goin’.”

They walked a little ways out into the desert. The noises of the nomad camp faded behind them, though they didn’t disappear altogether, remaining as echoes of laughter and vibrations of distant music in the air. After rounding a ridge that put the camp out of sight, they came to a halt among the rocky outcroppings and scattered boulders.

Cradled in the curve of the ridge was an area cleared of rocks and brush, leaving only soft sand with a thick blanket spread over it. Empty tin cans and glass jars surrounded the blanket, and V dropped River’s hand to strike a match. She went to each makeshift container and lit the candle within it. Illuminated by the many wisps of tiny, dancing flame below and the dim shadows of the stars above, she knelt on the blanket and beckoned to River to join her.

“This is incredible, V,” River said in a tone of soft reverence. He sat down beside her and cupped her face in his ‘ganic hand. “You put all this together?”

The woman nuzzled into his hand and placed a kiss in his palm. “‘S not much, but--I wanted to do somethin’ nice. For both of us. ‘Cuz of how shit everything’s been lately. We deserve a chance to feel… good.” Some of the candles were letting off a pleasant aroma of citrus oil; the kind that would keep bugs away.

“Can it be? Is my favorite self-deprecating merc finally admitting she deserves to be happy?” River teased, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone.

V looked away, embarrassed, but she was smiling. “Maybe a little. Sometimes. In the right company.”

River caught her gaze again, letting the joy he felt show plain on his face. “I’m thrilled, V. Honestly, I--some shit Silverhand said got to me. Said your feelings for me were makin’ you miserable, hurtin’ more than they helped.”

“Tch. Fuckin’ asshole,” V swore. Her scowl made River grin wider. “Here’s the thing ‘bout Johnny: he can’t stand not feelin’ good. Soaks himself in booze and pussy the instant somethin’ goes wrong and he can’t fix it with a bomb or a bad attitude.” V’s attention flicked aside for a moment, and River suspected the rockerboy in question was making an appearance to mount some sort of sarcastic defense against the aspersions on his character. V continued despite the digital interruption.

“In a way, it’s good havin’ him around, remindin’ me to grab what I want with both hands and not let go ‘til the bastards pry me loose. Dunno if I knew how to do that, how to just… enjoy shit, and not live afraid of losin’ it, ‘fore I met him.” V’s gaze drifted to the side again, with a small smile and a slight nod. “Then again, he is a textbook narcissist. Assume so, anyway; never was much for textbooks. He’s figurin’ out how to care about other people ‘cuz he’s kind of outside himself by bein’ inside me.” The merc shot a glare at empty space and muttered, “Yeah, I fuckin’ know how that sounds, Christ! Are you fuckin’ twelve?!”

“Running commentary from the cheap seats?” River asked with amusement.

V rolled her eyes. “Always. Point is--Johnny’s shit at carin’ about anybody and I’m shit at carin’ about myself and we’re both tryin’ to take care of each other and it’s fucked up. Sorry you got caught in the crossfire, River. And… thank you for stickin’ with us, like you did.”

“‘Course I did,” River said, his grin crooked in a playful way. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I abandoned my output just ‘cuz the dead terrorist possessin’ her body was screamin’ insults and tryin’ to punch me in the dick?”

V’s stare at nothing narrowed. “Johnny, did you fuckin’--”

“I’m exaggerating,” River hastened to add. “Uh… slightly. There was a lot of punching. Not in the dick though, that’s mint goddamn condition.”

“Sounds like somethin’ I should judge for myself.” 

Whatever harsh words V had brewing for Johnny abated along with her annoyance, and the woman’s manner shifted rapidly. She slung her leg over River’s and perched in his lap facing him, her hands slipping under his shirt to glide up the smooth planes of his chest. River shucked away his jacket and let V pull off his t-shirt. The way she looked at his bare muscles in the moonlight was possessive and predatory, and River found he didn’t entirely mind being objectified, under the circumstances.

V’s hands were quick and clever. She unlaced laces and unbuckled buckles, and soon enough River was naked and ready for her inspection. She was exceptionally thorough in her study, tongue and teeth and fingers working in concert over every inch of his body, from her nails drawn lightly over the crown of his head, to his toes sucked into her mouth. The sensations were strange but not unpleasant, and every little croon and sigh from V as she nibbled at his collarbone or sank her grip into his flank made River feel like he was being worshipped.

It was sweet and soft and lovely, and there was only so much of that a man could take.

River propped his head up on his arm and gazed down the length of his body at V, still fully clothed, her lips brushing against the hard line of his hipbone. He could feel her exhalations stir the hair near his cock, which was fully erect and straining as if it could be more so. 

“What’s the play here, merc?” he asked lazily, as if every part of him didn’t ache to be inside her, as if he wasn’t a moan and a gasp of hers away from grabbing her and fucking her into the sand.

She smiled up at him dreamily, and the pure lust in her heavy-lidded eyes made everything better and worse at the same time. In lieu of answering his question, her mouth found his cock, and a long, luscious stroke of her tongue swept him from base to tip, collecting the precum beading there. River shut his eyes and let out a deep, heartfelt groan.

V kept her affections focused on his cock now, but she was still toying with him, not trying to make him come. Her wet lips pressed erratic patterns into his shaft, her tongue fondled his balls one at a time, her throat closed around him just long enough for her to start to choke before she pulled back, smirking. River was losing his goddamn mind.

“V…” he growled, a note of warning in his tone. 

“Relax, lover. I finish what I start.” The merc sounded far too damn pleased with herself, and the state she’d reduced him to. It was hard to complain once she straddled him and began stripping, though.

Clothes were tossed aside to the sand, and River looked up at V’s body, shrouded in shadows and licked by candlelight. She was there, all of her, scars and tattoos and muscles and _heat_ , skin and bones and everything between. She was there, and she was his, and he was hers. For the briefest moment, it took everything River had not to crush her in his embrace and begin to weep. Everything they’d been through. So many times they could have lost each other, and they didn’t. They were together, and they were _still here_.

Fortunately, V was adept as ever at drawing River from his darker thoughts. The woman settled her naked form against his, canting her chest forward so her breasts were within reach of River’s mouth. Never one to refuse a graciously offered invitation, the man stretched his neck up and captured a nipple between his teeth, flicking it with his tongue, gently tugging her down so he could fill his mouth with her soft flesh. 

She let out a delicious moan, and River’s cock twitched, making him aware of the sudden chill left there by V’s saliva coating evaporating in the cold night. The problem was short lived, however, as the merc scooted backwards, River following her semi-upright to keep his mouth firmly in place. His free hand found her other breast, and she gasped at the touch of cool metal. Her ass bumped up against his cock, which nestled into place between her cheeks as she wiggled and writhed at the sweet torment River was inflicting on her tits. 

River was enjoying himself immensely, playing V like an instrument with each swirl of his tongue and scrape of his teeth. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, _twisting_ until she cried out, and _pulling_ , holding it there until her breathing grew heavy and labored, broken by the smallest of needy whimpers. He released her and she practically fell on him like a puppet with her strings cut, the stiffness and tension of pain no longer riveting her in place. River felt the wet warmth of her cunt smear against his skin. 

“Unhh…” V groaned, bracing her arms on either side of River’s head to push herself up again. River noted with gratification that both of her nipples looked puffy, swollen by pinches and nips of his teeth. He continued to admire his work there, and the bruise he’d left on her neck earlier in the evening, as she shimmied back further and impaled herself on his cock. 

River’s hips bucked reflexively, driving himself in, as the heat and pressure of her sank around him. He felt the rumble of a soft groan in the base of his throat. He felt the small rocks digging into his back from beneath the blanket. But mostly what felt was _her_ \--the warm, wonderful tightness of her, the slick friction between them when she moved, the slow roll of her hips that drove the head of his cock against the front of her interior walls and made them both gasp. 

“F-fuck,” the merc murmured, eyelashes fluttering. “Ahh… fuck, _River_ …” 

He liked the way she said his name. Like a curse word. Like a prayer. 

He flexed the muscles of his flank and lower back to go deeper and make her gasp again, but she had the range of motion he lacked in this position and it was up to her to set the pace. She did so--carefully, deliberately, milking his shaft with all the strength of her cunt as she rose and sank down on him, again and again. She was methodical, precise, timing her strokes with her tight pulses, fucking like she was following the steps of a dance. It felt amazing, and River lost himself for a time in a relentless, tidal flood of sensations, every part of him gripped and held by every part of her. When he found his mental footing again, though, he noticed the furrow in V’s brow and realized she was thinking too hard about this. 

He grabbed her hips and dug in his nails. “Touch yourself for me,” he growled, and a thrill ran down his spine as V’s hand darted eagerly to her clit. Rubbing small circles there, her tempo changed, becoming faster and lighter, focusing on the upper half of his cock and leaning back to press it snugly against her front interior wall and keep it there, rolling smoothly up and down, driving her deeper into the lightless pit of her own ecstasy. River held onto her hips and enjoyed the ride, not to mention the view. 

He felt her thighs start to tremble under his fingers and heard her breath catch in her throat. “Ask nicely,” he reminded her, a little gleam of cruel amusement in his voice. She answered with a helpless whimper and wide, pleading eyes fixed on him, her shining wet fingers still working herself over in quick, firm circles. 

“Can I c-come please? _Sir_?” 

River didn’t have the heart to make her wait a second longer. “Yes, pet. Come _now_.” 

By the word ‘now’ River could already feel her cunt quivering with the power of the impending explosion, and the orgasm tore through V an instant later, making her thrash and howl, convulsing around River’s length with wild, intoxicating abandon. He took advantage of her distraction and sat up, wrapping an arm around V to hold her in place while a quick twist of his body reversed their positions. She was on the ground, still writhing in climax, and he was in control. 

He drove into her with all the force of the last two lonely, pent-up weeks, of every night spent in arm’s reach of her yet so far away. It wasn’t her fault but damn if didn’t feel good to take it out on her anyway, plowing her small, tight body like he meant to rip her apart from the inside. Tears were spilling from her eyes and she was gasping with every thrust like he was fucking even the air out of her lungs, but he knew she knew she could stop this with a word if she wanted and she _didn’t_ ; she _wanted_ this too-- 

“Tell me how badly you wanted this,” River ordered, his voice hoarse with lust and exertion. 

V’s answering moan broke into a sob as he slammed harshly into her depths once again. “Wanted this--wanted _you_ \--so f-fuckin’ _bad_ , Riverrr…” the woman panted. “I--I needed you--needed to feel you _inside_ me-- _everywhere_ \--you’re the only thing that feels _right_ …” 

Her tits were bouncing so hard as he crashed into her that they had to be sore--V had to be hurting from this rough treatment--but she wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed his ribs with her knees, pushing against him as if daring him to go harder, faster. 

So he did. 

Her voice was a chorus in his ear, a symphony of pain and pleasure, grunts and whines and sobs and moans and _begging_ , she _begged_ , she wanted to come _again_ \-- 

He granted her permission as his own climax took hold, seizing his muscles in a paroxysm of fulfillment, his pleasure heightened and prolonged by V’s shuddering beneath him. The hot rush of his cum filled her, and her bruised hips twitched towards him of their own accord at the sensation. River couldn’t help but smile as he pulled out and wiped himself on the corner of the blanket. 

“Doin’ okay, love?” he inquired softly, as V continued to lie on her back in a disheveled heap. 

“Uh-huh,” the merc groaned, equally as hoarse as he was. She held up one finger. “Sec. Brain. Words.” 

River grinned. “Understood.” He lay back down on his side facing her, waiting for her to be ready for complete sentences again. 

Eventually she nestled in close to his chest, and pulled his arm over her to rest on her waist. “Hi,” she whispered. 

“Hi,” he said, watching her eyes reflect the dark sky. 

“I missed you.” The merc sounded… kind of shy? 

“Missed you too,” River murmured. “Are you really okay? Looked like… like it hurt.” 

“Ohh yeah. Once the feel-good buzz wears off, I’m gonna be sore in places that ain’t even on the charts.” V smiled sleepily. “Can’t say I’d wanna go that hard every time. But for tonight… it was perfect.” 

River blew out a small sigh. “That’s a relief; don’t think I can afford the chrome that’d let me keep up that pace on the regular.” 

A husky little laugh escaped V’s lips. “Aww, pobrecito. Did I wear you out?” she teased. 

“Hey, I may not speak Spanish, but I know enough to tell when you’re makin’ fun of me.” River’s tone was less affronted and more affectionate. He leaned forward to kiss the tip of V’s nose. “And yeah. I’m fuckin’ exhausted. Keepin’ up with you is a handful and a half, and I only got the one ‘ganic hand left.” 

“But you make it look so easy. No one’d guess how _strenuous_ fuckin’ a girl into gooey, babblin’ mush is.” V smirked, running her thumb over River’s lower lip. The former badge caught the digit between his teeth playfully before releasing her. 

“Careful, merc. That kinda sass will get you hard time.” 

V gasped in delight. “Was that a _pun_? It fuckin’ was! Fuck yeah; finally dragged the high an’ mighty detective down to my level--” she crowed, and was rudely interrupted by a kiss. 

“I like it here,” River murmured when their lips parted, watching the subtle shifts of V’s expression--embarrassment, surprise, pleasure, content. “On your level. Good place to be.” 

“I like havin’ you here,” she breathed. There was quiet for a moment as she seemed to be internally debating something. Then, slowly, she spoke again. “I was thinkin’... while I was stuck in my head. ‘Bout what I’m scared of.” 

“Yeah?” River asked, gentle and curious. 

“All kinds of things. Mostly dyin’, but… livin’ too. Spent all those years fightin’ so hard to survive, and then I make it big enough that it ain’t about survival most days, and… I froze up. Turns out keepin’ myself alive was the main thing I was livin’ for.” She let out a dry chuckle. “Dunno the first thing about what I really want, or how to be happy. Was never in a place where I had the luxury to consider that shit. Then my gonk ass stumbled into you, and I found happiness ‘thout even lookin’, and I got--I got real damn scared, River.” V rested her fingertips on River’s chest, just over his heart. “Scared of what happens to both of us when we lose each other, like we will someday one way or the other. Scared of all the bitter I used to swill, now that I know what sweet tastes like.” 

River stroked the small of her back softly, tracing the harsh lines of old scars torn into the skin. “I get scared sometimes too, V,” he admitted quietly. “When we’re together, it’s-- _you’re_ \--fuckin’ amazing, but then without you it’s like I’m... starin’ down this long black tunnel of the rest of my life and I can’t see the point of walkin’ through it. Not alone. And I wouldn’t’ve known how dark and cold I was if you’d never dragged me out into the light.” The corner of his mouth tugged upwards. “See? You ruined my life too. We’re even.” 

The merc snorted in amusement and shook her head. “All right. What if--hear me out here--we agree that neither of us ruined each other’s lives, and we decide to just be happy we found each other, every moment we’re together? And whenever that moment comes that we’re alone again, we remember bein’ here, touchin’ like this, and know that havin’ somethin’ like we do is worth bearin’ the pain of losin’ it.” 

“What do we have, V?” River asked. He knew the answer, but he needed her to say it in a way she hadn’t yet. 

V stiffened as if bracing for a blow, and then laughed nervously. “Shit... I ain’t said it yet, I guess. I’m such a goddamn coward.” Her tension drained away in a sigh as she met River’s steady gaze, and she fumbled for a word unfamiliar and awkward on her tongue. “...love, River. What we have is… is love.” 

River felt a big, stupid grin growing on his face. He folded V into his embrace, enveloping her in the strength of his arms and cradling the back of her head in his hand. “Yeah,” he murmured to her as her limbs wound tight around him in return. “It is.” 


	26. R) Your Stories, Your Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna take a day off from updates tomorrow. The final arc of the story is about to get going and I want to give myself some time to edit/restructure a couple things before diving in. I wasn't sure I'd get this far when I started writing, but the ending of this story is going to serve as a kind of fix-it/AU for the canon endings. There won't be spoilers for the actual events of the endgame, but you will find out some information about Yorinobu Arasaka and his plans that is only revealed in the Devil/side-with-Hanako ending. So maybe use the break to check that out, if you haven't yet?
> 
>  **CW:** V's backstory, y'all. No explicit blow-by-blows, but includes references to: human trafficking, torture and execution as public entertainment, physical and sexual abuse of minors, non-consensual brain surgery, V blaming herself for things she was forced to do. 
> 
> -KB

### River

“River?” 

“Hnph?” It was the absolute dead of night, and River had been enjoying a rare, dreamless sleep when V’s hesitant voice had woken him.

“Don’t… don’t say anything, okay? Don’t move even. Just… pretend to be asleep still. Please.”

Instantly he was wide awake, concern for his output banishing the body’s demand for rest. But he didn’t move, as she requested. “Okay,” he said softly, as if trying not to spook a skittish animal. He kept his eye shut, but he could feel her move on the blanket beside him as she sat up.

“Okay,” she said, and took a deep breath. “Was born in a small nomad family. Half a dozen vans in the caravan, mostly young couples and their kids. Traveled around pickin’ crops, fixin’ up junk, doin’ deliveries an’ odd jobs. Hard life, but free. Not a bad way to grow up.” There was a hint of a smile in her voice, but it had faded by the next sentence. “Like you saw by now, nomads’re like everybody else. There’s some just tryin’ to get by and look after each other ‘thout hurtin’ anyone, some who’ll attack outsiders to feed their family… and some who’ll eat their own.”

“Nearin’ my fifteenth year, our caravan was raided by a larger clan. Parents died in the fightin’; so did anyone else who’d picked up a gun. Rest of us, mostly my age or younger, got locked in a big ol’ cattle truck. Figured they were gonna sell us to another clan or some shady corpo farm.” River snuck a glance at V from under his lashes. Despite the cold desert air, she had pushed aside the extra blanket she’d brought for them to sleep under. She was looking up, her gaze fixed stubbornly somewhere a hundred miles into the atmosphere. The full moon shining near the horizon behind her outlined her form in pale, cold white. Idly, without seeming to realize it, she was rubbing her wrist. 

“Probably that was the plan at first. But then they ran into some troubles. Rainy season started early, flash flood carried off a supply truck. When the rains stopped, all that standin’ water started breedin’ mosquitoes, and folks were droppin’ left an’ right from hyper-malaria or some shit. Took out half their stock--meanin’ us--and more’n a few of their raiders. Food was runnin’ out, and folk were gettin’ antsy. Finally a bunch of the raiders got fed up, killed the clan leader and her allies, and they took over for themselves.” V recited the litany of disasters like it was a grocery list. There was almost no feeling at all in her voice as she continued, flat and dry as the wasteland surrounding them.

“That was when things got... bad. Not gonna lie, bein’ treated like property and locked up in a swelterin’ cattle car for weeks while what left of my family were sweatin’ and pukin’ themselves to death around me was pretty fuckin’ horrible, but they kept us mostly fed and didn’t hurt us, cuz we were their potential profits. All business. With the raiders in charge… it got personal.”

“Those assholes decided they didn’t wanna just jaunt around the countryside sellin’ poor bastards to rich bastards anymore. Wasn’t enough for them. So they set up this camp in the mountains and fortified the hell out of it, put down roots--their own shitty little bandit kingdom.” River watched V’s lip curl scornfully, the only sign she gave of her current feelings. “Asshole-in-chief was this guy Franco. Obsessed with ancient fucking Rome. Especially the emperors--the crueler and filthier the better.”

River wanted to reach for V and pull her close, but she’d asked him to stay still, so he would. Even so, he couldn’t keep his ‘ganic hand from clenching into a fist so tight it ached. He didn’t want to hear this. _Coward_ , he chastised himself. If V could live through what she did, the least he could fucking do was listen to her.

She seemed to sense his distress, or maybe it was her own pain that made her hesitate. “I… it was bad, River,” she whispered at last. “It was agony, humiliation... sheer fuckin’ terror… every day. For five _fucking years_.” Her carefully flat tone finally broke, catching on a sob, but she pushed forward. “Tried to fight, tried to run, just made ‘em laugh and made ‘em meaner. Any of us started trouble, we all paid for it. Bad as they’d hurt me, watchin’ them hurt the younger kids was worse.” She stuttered to a halt. River heard her force a long breath into her lungs and back out. “The worst was… worst of it came after they hijacked this big shipment of bootleg tech. There was a doll chip in there.”

His veins filled with ice water, and his voice came out raw and hoarse before he could stop himself. “Fuck, V…”

To his surprise, she just turned her head slightly to look at him and smiled, her eyes shining too bright. _Tears?_ “Yeah. Not one of the fancy ones they use at the dollhouses here in the city, either, where the doll’s mind is tucked away nice an’ safe, not even knowin’ what’s happening to their body.” She drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. “I felt everything they did. I _remember_ everything I did.” There was a bottomless well of loathing and disgust contained in V’s words, and River got the feeling it wasn’t just reserved for the people who had hurt her.

“You can program those chips for all kinds of shit. Combat, even. So if you’re a fuckface who gets kicks off imaginin’ you’re a goddamn Roman emperor, ‘course you’re gonna have an arena, and of course it’d be real fuckin’ nova if you could program your teenage sex puppet to kill people for you there. Greatest goddamn show on earth.” Bitter rage had been building in V like a tide, and then the wave seemed to break and wash away, leaving the woman with only sorrow and exhaustion.

“First person I ever killed… girl named Valerie. Near the same age, grew up together, more or less sisters. Hardly any of us from our caravan were left by then, and they threw the two of us into the circle together. Gave me a knife and her a rusty machete. I had the chip; she didn’t. I was programmed to kill her; she was supposed to try and stay alive as long as she could. But she wouldn’t fight me. Dropped her weapon and wouldn’t pick it back up. She tried to get away… they kept shovin’ her back into the ring. Tried talkin’ to me, told me she loved me...” V trailed off, her gaze growing dim and distant again. “I loved her, too. But I couldn’t stop myself. I just--watched.” 

It was painful, how badly River wished he could smooth away the lines of anguish written on her face, carved on her skin, along with the memories they carried.

“I killed… a lotta people, River. In some pretty fucked up ways. Y’know that bit about gladiators, how a thumb’s up from the emperor meant the loser’s life was spared, thumb’s down meant kill ‘em? Franco did that--but his version of mercy was a quick death. Thumb’s down was a slow one. Got to be kind of notorious, his whole operation. All kinds of fuckin’ tourists would stop by--nomads, sure, but thrillseekers and extreme BD junkies and more than a few corpos too. Everyone loves a bit of tits and bloodsport. Made good money. Eventually Franco made other dolls--other girls like me…”

Her grip on her own wrist tightened so hard that her knuckles stood out in the darkness, paler than the rest of her warm brown skin. “Got to be too big, made too much money. The corpos wanted to invest, get a piece of the action, make it all a little more... commercial. Franco’s just an old bastard with some real specific fetishes; he wasn’t interested in sellin’ out if it meant changin’ or compromisin’ any part of the way he liked things done. Differences of opinion, one thing led to another, the base got raided and blown to shit. Me and some of the others tried to escape while everyone was exchangin’ pleasantries via bullets. I was the only one that made it.”

There was quiet for a while--long enough that River started to wonder if V was finished with her story, and if he was supposed to say something now. He honestly had no idea what to say if that were the case. This was all… what had Silverhand called it?

_A horror show. Snuff porno XBD material. Except not at all hot, because it’s real._

Fortunately, V broke the silence. “Was on my own for a few months after that. Had a car I’d klepped. ‘Ventually joined up with another clan, the Bakkers… they were family, for a while. Five or six years. One of ‘em was an artist; he did most of my ink.” She released her knees and stretched out a bit, sighing. One of her hands traced the coils of a tattooed snake down her chest and onto her hip. River followed her fingertip’s progress with his gaze.

“This was meant to be a sign of somethin’, y’know? Renewal. A snake sheddin’ its skin; new life from the death of the old. Ended up bein’ real fuckin’ ironic when the Bakkers decided to throw their hand in with Snake Nation, and I left because of it.” A scowl hardened her features. “Snake Nation’s run like a megacorp, practically. They wanna grow, and grow, and they’ll eat anything they find to make it a part of them. And folks just… line up an’ wait to be swallowed. Like it’s a gift. So glad to be a part of somethin’ that they don’t care what kind of monster the thing they’re part of is.” 

That was a tendency River recognized uncomfortably well, from his career with the NCPD. In his fellow officers, and in himself. _Put on the uniform, and you’re absolved from your actions. You’re a part of the machine, and the machine does what it was built to do. Don’t ever question how the machine does what it does, or whether anyone should have built it in the first place. All you have to do is accept the part you’re given._

“That’s what happened to the Bakkers. Swallowed and digested into the Snake. Same Snake that had already swallowed Franco and his crew--they’d been outlaws, no better than Raffen since they turned on their caravan leader, but they took Snake colors and it was like they’d been forgiven, like it was all… swept away. All they did to their own kind, all the thieving and killing and raping… all it took was a fuckin’ pinky promise not to do it again except to the Snake’s enemies, and then they were goddamn upstandin’ citizens of the Nation.” Her tone was scathingly acerbic. 

“I saw him there, at the summit where the Bakkers pledged themselves to the Snake. I hated what they were doin’, but I was goin’ along with it, ‘cuz they were the only family I had. Then I saw Franco, and I… I ran. Didn’t stop ‘til I hit Night City. Met Jackie. Things got better. Had a good couple years--better than any since my parents died. Then there was the Konpeki Plaza job, and… well, you mostly know the rest.” She finally looked directly at him, but only for a second. Then she looked down, like she was… ashamed?

“V,” River said softly. “Can I tell you something?” She didn’t raise her eyes, but she nodded, and he continued. “I love you. So… unbelievably, staggeringly much. I _love_ you. Everything you are. Your stories and your scars. And I... I hate what you’ve been through; I’m so goddamn angry at everyone who hurt you that it feels like a weight too heavy to carry. But you’ve been carrying it, all these years… all that rage and pain and guilt and sadness. And you’ve been carrying it alone.” 

He opened his hand, settled palm-up on the blanket next to her. Not touching, but close enough to touch. If she wanted to. “You’re an incredible woman, V. World tried everything it could to break you down, make you small and cold--but you made yourself brave and kind, instead. The strength it takes to do that… it’s rare, V. Makes you special, makes you… luminous.” 

The woman’s hand crept into his own, and he brushed her knuckle gently with his thumb. “I am so goddamn lucky that you chose me. That you trust me enough to tell me what hurts you. That you love me--and I know you do, even if it’s hard for you to say it. I know you… even better now, and that is a fucking _gift_. Thank you,” he said, trying to catch her gaze so she could see how much he meant it. Her eyes met his and his heart stuttered in his chest with how goddamn lovely she was. “Thank you, V. For telling me.”

Wordless, she bent down to kiss him. River tasted salt and felt droplets of water hit his skin, but he kept kissing her and held her until she drifted off, curled into his side with her head pillowed on his chest, his fingers running softly through her hair.

River was on the edge of sleep himself, sinking into the languid contentment of the moment, when a buzz in his ear alerted him to a new text message. His brows drew together as he frowned. He had made some calls earlier in the evening--first to Joss to let her know he wasn’t dead, then to Claire and Misty to tell them he’d found V like he promised. Joss was the only one who hadn’t answered, but the text wasn’t from her personal number.

It wasn’t from any number River recognized, in fact. The message itself was equally obscure. Just three words, blinking in white in the corner of his vision on his cyber eye’s HUD.

**_‘Don’t come home.’_ **


	27. V) Worth Fighting For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to assure everyone who (like me) gets stressed out by couples' fights in fiction, that no one is breaking up and this story IS going to have a happy ending. V and River both know that they each have a little bit of a point, and that they're also being a little bit unreasonable. Sometimes one person's trauma response triggers another person's trauma response and they both hate what they're doing, but they also can't access the skills necessary to stop the process, in the heat of the moment. But they will work it out, own their shit, and forgive each other for the rest.
> 
> Eventually.
> 
> -KB

### V

“‘Don’t come home?’” The merc repeated curiously as she folded up the blanket. The sky was gray with imminent dawn, and River clearly hadn’t fallen back asleep like she had after she woke him a few hours ago. “And you don’t know the number?”

The former badge shook his head, collecting the wax-filled vessels that had long since burned away their wicks. “I don’t have it listed, but I think I know who it is. Randy was… havin’ trouble sleeping, after he got back from the hospital. Felt like he was bein’ watched all the time. I gave him a burner phone so he could talk to his friends ‘thout loggin’ onto the net. Wasn’t much, but it seemed to help… y’know, psychologically.” River straightened, depositing the armful of candles in a large canvas tote V was holding open for him.

“Why would Randy be tellin’ you to stay away? Unless… some kinda warning?” she asked.

River grimaced. His severe agitation was stamped clearly in the tightness of his jaw and the set of his shoulders. “Gotta be. ‘S why Joss didn’t answer when I called. Probably got eyes on the place, maybe comms are tapped.”

V packed the second blanket down on top of the candles, and brushed the grit off her hands. “Who?”

“Dunno…” River let out a heavy sigh, his gaze taking in the scenery like he was scanning for potential exits in a firefight. “Could be… shit, any number of folks I’ve pissed off. Gangers lookin’ for payback, corpos lookin’ to tie up loose ends… maybe even NCPD changin’ their tune about lettin’ me retire in peace.”

V hoisted the bag over her shoulder, frowning. “Fuck, River… you think they’re safe? Joss, and everybody?”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so.” The big man sounded like he was trying to convince himself of his own certainty. “If any of ‘em had been hurt, Randy would be callin’ me in ‘stead of warnin’ me off. Must just be watchin’ and waitin’, for now.” He started walking in the direction of the Aldecaldo camp, and V hastened to catch up with her shorter stride.

She was getting a vibe from him that made her feel uneasy. “You’re… plannin’ to go back anyway, ain’t you.”

“‘Course. Not burstin’ in, guns blazin’, or nothin’, but… I gotta make sure they’re okay. Get the lay of the land.”

“Want me to come with?”

“ _No_.” The vehemence of River’s denial surprised V, and she stopped dead. He turned to face her, looking slightly ashamed of himself. “Sorry, V. I… I’m tired. Not that I don’t think you could help, or that I don’t wanna be near ya all the damn time anyway… but with everything we’ve been through… I just wanna know that _somebody_ I care about is safe.”

V’s expression darkened. “Well that’s fuckin’ stupid and kinda patronizing.” She resumed her pace, and he followed a little behind.

“V--fuck, seriously? You’re pissed at me for wantin’ to keep a--a fuckin’ shred of peace of mind? Anything could be happening to my family--and if it’s nothin’, or somethin’ you can help with, I swear I’ll call right away, but--V, I can’t--if I’m walkin’ into a trap, I don’t want you caught in it with me. _Please_.” His tone careened wildly from anger to fear to desperation.

V wasn’t looking at him, her gaze fixed firmly ahead. “So you’ll just get caught in it on your own and leave me to mourn, is that it? Musta been real fuckin’ nova, me disappearin’ like that and you not knowin’ where I was, seein’ as you’re so eager to let me go through the same damn thing.”

“That’s not fair, V.” River’s voice was hard and quiet. “You know that isn’t what I want. All I’m askin’ for--”

“Is the chance to soothe your own damn conscience by tellin’ yourself you’re protectin’ your girl, even when she’s tellin’ you to fuckin’ quit it. Patronizing. Selfish. You and Silverhand _do_ have a lot in common, turns out.” The words were tumbling out of V, and she knew it was too much, she was taking this too far, but it was like a match had been dropped on dry tinder somewhere within her chest and her perspective and restraint was all burning away. 

“Selfish? Are you fucking kiddin’ me right now?” She could hear River losing his check on the fraying edges of his own temper. “I just spent five fucking days with some gun or another shoved in my face, and every barrel I stared down all I could think about was _you_. Not thinkin’ that I was about to die, or of everyone I was gonna leave behind--just you, and how once they killed me you were gonna be next. That fuckin’ _destroyed_ me, V. Every minute you could’ve died, and there was absolutely jack shit I could do about it. So let me do _something_ , for fuck’s sake.”

They were approaching the outskirts of the nomad camp. V set her course for the small tent that had been bequeathed to her. “Ain’t stoppin’ you. You can go, and I won’t follow. When you wake up an’ smell the shit bad enough to pull your head outta your ass and realize that _we are fucking partners and I won’t thank you for sparin’ me your pain_ … lemme know.”

“Don’t want thanks from you, V. Just… goddammit, can you just _tolerate_ me bein’ gone for a few goddamn hours?”

“Take longer than that,” she suggested. She unzipped the tent and tossed her bag inside. “I could use a break from your self-righteous bullshit.” She folded her arms as she faced him, her voice laden with scorn.

His hands were clenched into fists. “I know you don’t mean that. I also know that you’re only actin’ like this ‘cuz you let your guard down last night and now you’re scared and angry because you feel vulnerable and you hate it.”

V bristled. “You some kind of profiler now? I tell you a little--barely scratch the fuckin’ surface of what I’ve been through, and you know everything about me? Ain’t how it fuckin’ works, _Detective_.” She practically spat the title.

River scowled. “Yeah. I know you, V. Pretty fuckin’ well, actually, and not just ‘cuz of last night. I also know as soon as you calm down you’re gonna start kickin’ yourself for what an asshole you’re bein’ now.”

V threw up her hands in disgust, before jabbing a finger at the horizon. “Feel free to get gone and wait for that to start, then. Give my best to the kids, and to whoever’s tryin’ to kill you.”

River made a noise of frustration. “V--” She went into the tent and zipped it shut. After a while, she heard him walk away.

_I am such a fuckin’ asshole._

The thought occurred to her a couple hours later, as she was lying on her cot and staring up at the sloped fabric of the tent’s ceiling. The morning heat was just shy of stifling, but it was getting there. She was training her hand-eye coordination--a fancy way of saying she was tossing a small toy ball in the air and catching it over and over again. It helped her not think.

Speaking of distractions, Johnny fritzed into existence on the other side of the room. Unlike usual, he didn’t have a smart remark already prepared. He just sat there on the folding stool, smoking and watching her. His silence was somehow more irritating than his commentary. 

“What?” V finally snapped at him.

“Nothin’.” The rocker’s eyes were covered completely by his dark aviators.

“Tch. Bullshit,” V scoffed. “It’s never nothin’ with you.”

No response. V kept tossing the ball, trying to ignore the twitching of a vein in her temple.

“You’re dyin’, V,” the engram said.

She missed the catch and the ball dropped to the ground with a thud. “Yeah, no shit,” she growled, swinging her legs over the edge of the cot to sit upright and face her hallucinatory companion.

“Not like we thought. We’ve been workin’ like it’s just your brain that’s dyin’, like if we can make a copy of your engram and upload it to the Relic ‘stead of mine, everything’ll be peachy. But it’s more than that. Body's rejecting you like a virus, attackin’ itself to destroy you. Impending cascade failure and total genetic collapse, 'cording to the freaks at the funny farm. They’re pieces of shit and I wouldn’t trust a goddamn flea to their medical expertise, but I’m thinkin’ they’re not wrong about this.”

“So--what are you saying?” V struggled to get the words out, her head suddenly swimming. “There’s no chance? Even if we get a copy of me saved, body won’t accept it and I’ll still--I’ll just die?”

“Yeah. That’s what I’m sayin’.”

V groaned and leaned forward, covering her face with her palms. “Fuck! This is such... fuckin’ bullshit.”

“Yeah.” The engram sounded almost as bitter and pissed off at their shared helplessness as V felt. But he kept going. “So? What are you gonna do?”

Folded so far forward that her head was almost hanging between her knees, V took a deep breath. Then another. She felt the sweat that was trickling down her back and sticking her clothes to her skin, and she heard a fly buzzing somewhere in the tent. She breathed, and she counted, timing her inhales and exhales to keep them steady. Johnny waited for her, with uncharacteristic patience.

“Doesn’t change anything,” she murmured at last without looking up. “Still need to get to Mikoshi, tear it down.”

“You don’t have to do that for me, V.” If it had been anyone but Silverhand, V might have said he sounded tender. She lowered her hands and raised her head to meet his gaze. The sunglasses were gone and his dark eyes were solemn.

“I’m not doing it for you. Well--not only for you,” she amended when he raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “Arasaka… the souls they have there give ‘em power. Control over secrets, finances, governments… it’s too much. If no one stops ‘em here, no one’ll ever stop them.”

“Arasaka ain’t the only megacorp in town. Sure you want to spend your last days takin’ ‘em down, when some other shitlord will probably just come along and pick up where they left off?”

V’s eyes narrowed. “Christ, Johnny--the devil don’t pay his advocates, y’know.”

“I know. Strictly pro bono work, me.” He smirked in his usual insufferable manner.

“Charitable fucker.” V sighed and scrubbed some of the sweat off her forehead. “I dunno... it feels like somethin’ I gotta do. Feels _right_.”

The engram extinguished his cigarette, grinding it out on the dirt floor with the heel of his boot. Of course, the butt was gone once he moved his foot. “Preem. I can dig it.” His casual irreverence drew a laugh from V that she sorely needed.

“Sure fuckin’ hope so; you’re in this with me to the end of the line, choombatta.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” His grin was a flash of teeth and arrogance. “But I get the feelin’ it ain’t just the two of us on the ride.”

An image of River unfolded in her mind. Smiling at her across the table in the burrito place, as he flicked imaginary dust off the stupid, fluffy collar of that coat he always wore. “...no. It ain’t.”

“Hn. Well--still can’t stand the guy. But he ain’t the most useless badge you coulda picked.” The admission was grudging, at best. Practically a love sonnet, considering the source.

V grinned. “Thanks, Johnny. I’ll tell him ya said so.”

“Do that and I’m bustin’ the stereos in every car you own, includin’ mine. Nothin’ but Lou Bega on repeat ‘til the day you croak.”

“Death would be a mercy by then,” V said agreeably.

“Damn straight.” Johnny pointed at her, a wicked light glinting in his eyes. “Don’t fuck with me, merc. I fuck back hard.”

“Promise?” V teased, getting to her feet and stretching out her back.

Johnny snorted. “Should know better than to threaten a masochist with a good time.”

“You really should.” V checked her stash, pulling out some spare clothes that would actually fit to swap for the baggy cast-offs from the prison camp. Part of her wanted to go after River now, try to make things right. But it wouldn’t be much of an apology if she threw herself into danger in the exact way he’d asked her not to in order to give it. She settled for shooting him a brief text-- _”you’re right, I’m an asshole, call me.”_ Then she got busy trying not to wait for his response.

There was plenty to do to distract her. Besides performing some long-neglected personal hygiene tasks, she ate a full meal and caught up with her friends. Panam gave her shit about sneaking off with River the night before.

“Sounded like a pair of goddamn coyotes in heat.” the woman snickered. V rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure Pan was bluffing; they’d been far enough from the camp and the music had been loud enough that there was no way they could have been overheard.

“What, you get your rocks off spyin’ on us or somethin’? Perv,” she grumbled, scraping the bottom of her stew bowl with her spoon.

“Hey, we don’t get the latest BD releases out here in the sticks, gotta take our entertainment as it comes. And comes. And--” Panam was unceremoniously interrupted as V shoved her off the end of the bench the two women shared, to general approval and laughter--even from Pan.

After lunch, V helped Panam out around camp, distributing the newly-klepped resources, and arranging transport for the rescued victims who were going back to the city and shelter for a few that were staying. Those few were the remnants of a small nomad clan captured by the Raffen Shiv months ago. V found it hard to be near them; the hollowness in their eyes and the weight of the loneliness that they carried drew familiar strings back to her own past. 

_Losing everyone, one by one, no matter how hard you try to hold on, until you’re all that’s left…_

Those survivors stuck close by each other, and Panam addressed them with particular gentleness. V transferred a healthy amount of eddies to Panam’s account to compensate for whatever care they’d need as they settled into the Aldecaldo way of life. She wished she had words for them, something hopeful or helpful that didn’t taste like ash in her mouth as she said it. But she didn’t. So she did what she could.

As night fell, the city-bound group piled onto a refurbished old school bus, and V joined them. Panam hugged her tightly before she left and told her to visit soon. V was paralyzed for a moment, Silverhand’s dire proclamation from earlier echoing in her head.

_“You’re dyin’, V.”_

“Yeah, Pan, I… I hope I can.” She licked her dry lips and swallowed. _Not good enough._ “Hey. Um… I love you, you know.”

Panam pulled back from their embrace, her hands grasping both of V’s shoulders. Her eyebrows drew to a crease as she studied V intently. “You feelin’ okay?”

V chuckled hoarsely, without much humor. “So much for me bein’ subtle.”

“Subtlety’s for gonks and cowards,” Panam declared fiercely, her conviction shining in her dark gaze. “So it’s happening, then? Silverhand takin’ over, and you goin’ away?”

V tried to answer and couldn’t. When her voice finally escaped her lips, it was quiet and too fragile. “Pretty much. Don’t know exactly when, but it’s… it’s soon, Pan. Real soon.” Though the Relic hadn’t glitched on her all day, she was starting to feel the buzzing at the base of her skull that meant another malfunction was building steam. It was gonna be a bad one, she could tell.

Panam pulled her close again, and murmured in her ear, “Fuck, V… this is so fuckin’ unfair.”

“Yeah.” V wrapped her arms around her friend and squeezed probably tighter than she should’ve, because she felt the other woman gasp. “Sorry,” she mumbled, loosening her grip. “Stupid synth muscles.” To her relief, Panam just tightened her own embrace in response.

They held each other like that for a while, ignoring the roar of the bus engine idling nearby. V soaked in every sensation she could identify as Pan--her wiry strength, the delicate frizz of her hair pressed against V’s cheek, the combined scent of warm cocoa butter and the sharp tang of motor oil that clung to her. V savored it all like a feast before an execution.

“Love you too, V,” Panam said in a whisper that V felt on her skin as softly as she heard it.

V squeezed her once more, carefully, and let go. “I’ll be back if I can. I promise.”

“Do what you gotta do,” Panam said, sounding more like her usual, brash self. “If me or the rest of the clan can help, we will. We got your back, always, and we’ll fight for you. Don’t ever forget that. And don’t… don’t ever forget that you’re worth fightin’ for.”

V’s throat was threatening to close up. “Thanks, Pan. You too.” She hated what a gonk response that was, but she meant it and she hoped that counted for something, despite the eloquence she couldn’t muster. “Clan couldn’t be in better hands than yours.” The Aldecaldo leader smiled at her.

As the bus pulled away, V watched Panam stand there for a long time, her figure a small blot on the vast desert landscape... until with distance she faded from view entirely.


	28. V+R) Let It Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** episode of paralysis brought on by terminal illness.
> 
> Since chapter 14, I've had a personal goal of keeping updates over the 2k word mark--just because that feels like a good minimum chapter length, for me. This chapter hits it, but there are gonna be a few coming up that don't quite make it. I feel guilty about failing to meet an arbitrary, self-imposed quota, so I'm acknowledging that feeling publicly so I can hear how ridiculous I sound. Y'all don't mind short chapters now and then, right?
> 
> -KB

### V

V made it all the way to the elevator in her megabuilding before the malfunction hit hard. Pain seared across her mind, stealing her breath and the use of her limbs. Static drowned out her senses. She pitched into the wall of screens that blared colorful, glaring media into the cramped space, and slid down to curl into a ball at the base of it. Coughing wracked her frame, and blood was trickling from her mouth to stain the palm of her hand clutched there.

She was dimly aware of other passengers getting on the lift. They stuck by the opposite wall, blatantly ignoring her, and left a few floors later without a word. V kept coughing, struggling to pull enough air into her battered lungs between fits to keep from passing out.

“V? This is our stop.” It sounded like Johnny was hovering over her sprawled form, and she felt a touch on her shoulder, so light it could’ve been imaginary. She grunted in acknowledgement and tried to pull herself up, but she couldn’t move. Her brain was sending the signals and her body wasn’t responding. Cold panic descended, curling around her heart with a grip like death. The coughing stopped but she was panting now, hyperventilating and she couldn’t even control that, couldn’t even hold her _goddamn breath_ \--

“Easy,” Silverhand murmured. The whisper of a touch returned, rubbing a slow circle between V’s shoulderblades. “Gonna be okay, kid. It’ll pass. Let it ride.”

His calm comfort broke through the stranglehold of her terror, and she managed to stop gasping by timing her breaths with the strokes of his hand. The harsh roar of static in her ears subsided, and her vision stopped glitching out, which was kind of unfortunate since now she could see how filthy the floor she was hugging was. With great caution, she told the muscles in her back to tense and begin the process of sitting up. She could’ve cried with relief when they obeyed.

“Johnny…” she mumbled hoarsely.

“I’m here.”

“Can you…?”

“‘Course.”

It was a strange sensation as the engram took control. For a second V’s thoughts were racing at a thousand miles an hour, speeding and stretching into blurs of color and emotion until they weren’t _her_ thoughts at all. She’d expected to be shunted off to the side again, into the hell of her memories--she figured she could bear it long enough for Silverhad to walk her pathetic ass to her front door--but that wasn’t what happened. She could still see, hear, and feel as Johnny pushed off the wall and got to their feet. She was still… connected.

 _‘Johnny?’_ she formed the word in her thoughts by way of experiment.

“Yeah.” The reply came aloud, in her own voice--but with an unmistakable undertone of gravel and smoke.

 _‘Holy shit.’_ V marveled. _‘This is fucked up. Is this what it’s like for you most of the time?’_

“Depends. What’s it like?” The rocker’s engram was scrubbing the blood on their hands off on their pants. He pushed the button to open the cage of the elevator and strolled down the hall in a rolling swagger, distinct from V’s own light-footed gait.

_‘Like… scrollin’ a BD, kinda. I’m seein’ and feelin’ what you see and feel, but I’m thinkin’ my own thoughts. If you’re thinkin’ at me to talk like I do at you, I can’t hear it. How are we doing this?’_

“Dunno. Whenever I talk to you I kinda… manifest or some shit. Imagine myself bein’ in the room and then I’m there. Automatic like.”

V gave the imagining thing a shot. No apparent result. _‘So I can’t hear you and you can’t see me. But I’m not… locked away, like before. What’s different from the last time you took over?’_

The apartment door read V’s biometrics and let them in, sliding shut behind them with a pneumatic hiss that V felt like a sigh of satisfaction. Johnny felt? No, she was pretty sure that was her; the sense of well-being that came from being safe in a place she belonged wasn’t an experience that the rockerboy shared. Domesticity made him nervous and claustrophobic. Usually did, anyways.

He felt okay now, though. She could sense it. Sense him--and unlike in a BD, her own emotions and reactions weren't carefully screened out and suppressed to the point of irrelevance. She was herself, and she was him, and it was almost too much, to hold on to both those identities at once.

Silverhand seemed to be struggling too. “Last time I took up as much space as I could, shut every door I thought you might be behind. To keep you safe. Right now, I’m just tryin’ to keep the line open to both of us.”

_‘Stop tryin’ for a second. Wanna see what happens.’_

“Sure.” 

Before the word had finished forming V felt her access to his senses retreating, skittering out of her grasp into darkness as the mental equivalent of blast shields slammed down around her. Faced with nothing but unfathomable void, her mind quickly conjured memories that, in the absence of any other stimulus, slipped vividly into hallucinations. V had time to look down at a memory of her own bloodstained hands and the figure curled up on the ground beneath her, before the shields were yanked back and sent her screaming into light and life.

“V? Talk to me--hey. Use words.”

Her mental voice was nothing but a high-pitched wail that never stopped or faltered, not needing breath to sustain it. She cut herself off as soon as she realized she could.

“Thank you. Jesus. Givin’ me a headache.”

_‘...sorry. That’s… not fun.’_

“Kinda figured. One way ticket to nightmares, bein’ awake as a mind cut off from a body. Mikoshi was like that.”

 _‘Johnny--what the fuck?’_ V asked, incredulous. _‘If you knew that then why did you try to shut me out the first time?’_

“Didn’t know you’d be awake. Thought it’d be more like it is with the pills.” The pseudoendotrizine. They basically put V to sleep for a few hours, and she hadn’t experienced any negative side effects taking them--except for recovering from whatever havoc Johnny had wreaked upon their shared habitat once she woke up. 

_‘Wonder what would happen if you took one of those now. Would it force me into the driver’s seat, or knock me out like usual?’_ V mused.

“Nope. No more experiments tonight,” Silverhand said, in a manner that suggested the futility of argument. “Givin’ you the body back and then we’re done and you’re goin’ to bed.”

_‘D’you think River called while I was glitchin’ out? Will you check my messages?’_

“Ain’t your goddamn secretary,” the engram grumbled, but V saw her text message history flick up from the corner of their vision.

No response from River. He’d read what she sent earlier though, at least.

Johnny snorted in derision. “Badge’s pouting.”

 _‘Doesn’t sound like him. But I kinda hope so. Not lovin’ the alternatives.’_ If he wasn’t texting her back because he was mad at her, she could deal. If he wasn’t texting her back because he _couldn’t_ text her back…

Abruptly, Silverhand veered for the bathroom sink and retrieved a pill bottle that was sitting beside it. V saw the blue cap--the omega-3 blockers that put him to sleep and her in control.

_‘Can’t you just… let go of the wheel and let me take it? Like we did before?’_

“These are for after. If you’re gonna be makin’ yourself crazy thinkin’ about your input all night, at least one of us should get some rest,” the engram grumbled.

Time stretched and diluted as a severe case of mental vertigo overtook V, and suddenly she was back in her body. She swayed and stumbled, catching herself on an end table. 

“Christ, Johnny. Warn me next time, yeah?” she muttered, maneuvering herself carefully onto the bed. She flopped onto her back on the mattress and stretched out, feeling sensation return to her limbs in a kind of painful tingling, like they’d fallen asleep.

“Call the gonk,” Johnny said, appearing from nowhere with his back pressed to the window while his hands gripped the sill. “You’ll worry if you don’t and then you won’t sleep and then you’ll be too stupid to live with and probably say more dumb shit and make things worse when you do talk.”

V groaned and rubbed her forehead. Headache was still there, and she felt a little feverish. “Are you my fuckin’ mom now or somethin’?”

Silverhand folded his arms, unimpressed. “Call. Or take one of those damn pills, ‘cuz I can’t stand wallowin’ in your hormonal, lovesick brain for another ten seconds, let alone all night.”

“You’re kiddin’, right?”

“ _Call._ ”

V called. “...he’s not answering.”

The engram threw up his arms and let out a huff of disgust. “ _Perfect._ Just fucking wonderful.” He set to pacing back and forth across the room, but every few steps he would stutter out of reality and skip back in, a little too far forward or behind where he had been. It was making V dizzy to watch. Well, dizzier.

“You’re real worked up about this, ain’t ya?” she murmured, half teasing and half curious.

“ _I’m_ not. You are, but you’re suppressing it, which means you’re basically screamin’ it at me on the inside. Christ.” He scowled.

“Sounds like projection,” V snickered. “You’re worried about him too. But you don’t wanna admit it so you’re pretendin’ it’s all me.”

“It _is_ you! Jesus, Moses, and Buddha! If I decided to waste my time and energy carin’ about some useless gonk, I’d pick one with tits and a decent sense of humor at least!”

“You liiiiiike him,” V drawled sleepily. Her eyelids felt heavy. “You cuddled. He told me.”

“That’s it. You’re takin’ the fuckin’ pill.” 

V opened the bottle and regarded the pills within warily. “You, uh… you sure?”

“ _Yes_. Knock ‘em the fuck back.” The quiet plea hidden beneath his annoyed indifference was unsettling. Johnny rarely sounded so… vulnerable about what he wanted. Not to mention the novelty of him wanting something that wasn’t a drink or a fuck or an explosion or some combination of the three. He must have been even more exhausted than she was, after the week they’d had.

V poured the pills into her palm and popped one, swallowing it dry. Silverhand’s engram sighed like he’d taken a hit of Black Lace, and slumped against the window. “Thanks, V,” he muttered hoarsely.

She waved at him lazily. “Enjoy the nap, I guess.”

He vanished, leaving her drifting off to sleep in the muffled thickness of her slow, solitary thoughts.

### River

_God, I’m such an asshole._

The thought kept nagging at River as he watched the warmly-lit kitchen window of Joss’s trailer from the top of a nearby desert ridge. He’d brought along the sniper rifle from the comms tower, and he checked the scope now and then to get a closer look. Weapon unloaded and fingers well away from the trigger, of course.

He should have let V come help. Hell, he should have _begged_ for her help; her chrome was much better suited to stealth and surveillance than his was. But he’d been stupid, and selfish, just like she said. They were his family, but… he wanted them to be hers, too. He shouldn’t have tried to prevent her from getting involved. She was involved because he was involved, and that was a _good_ thing. That was how they both wanted it.

But she’d offered to come and he’d turned her down flat, rejecting her with speed and ferocity that surprised even him. All he could see as she glowered at him were all the guns that had been pointed at both their heads in the last few days--and it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t understand because she hadn’t really _been there_ until the tail end, but--they’d come so close. So many moments spent just an ill-timed sneeze away from death. If he or Silverhand had moved just a little differently, or thought just a little slower…

River fucking hated guns. He carried one when he was on the force, because he had to by regulation and because he needed it to not get dead. The necessity had provided a kind of unsupervised exposure therapy, which was probably terrible mental health practice but it did get him comfortable enough to fire the damn thing when it was called for. Secretly, though, giving V his sidearm when he retired had been a gift to himself as much as it was for her.

_“Sure about this?” she’d asked, peering down the sights before releasing the cylinder to check the chambers were empty._

_“Very.” River leaned back on his hands, letting his legs swing idly in empty space as he sat on the edge of the watertower’s platform. He felt lighter and happier than he had in a long, long time._

_“I dunno, River… city’s a dangerous place. What are you gonna do if a mugger comes after ya?”_

_“Give ‘em my wallet, I guess.” He lifted his shoulders in an easy shrug. “Don’t carry enough cash on me to be worth killin’ for anyway.”_

_V frowned. “I’m bein’ serious.”_

_“So am I.” He smiled, which probably did not help her take him seriously, but he couldn’t help it. He just felt… free. “V, I promise, I’ve thought this through. I’ll be careful. Not gonna antagonize anyone better armed than me. Comes down to it, can always buy a gun off a SCSM when I need one.”_

_V scoffed. “Those plastic pieces of crap? Better off scratchin’ ‘em to death with your fingernails; won’t break as easy.”_

_“Maybe I’ll just call my beautiful merc output and ask her to protect me, then,” he suggested, grinning slyly._

_“You can’t afford my daily rates. You’re an unemployed bum now, remember?” she shot back, relaxing into the banter and setting the weapon aside._

_“I’ll make up the difference in skin trade.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she burst out laughing._

_“Okay,” she said when she could breathe again, wiping a tear of mirth on the back of her hand. “Deal. I’ll shoot the bad guys, you bring the orgasms. Sound fair?”_

_“Extremely,” River murmured, slipping his arm around her waist. She tipped her face up, and he bent down to meet her lips with his in a kiss as long and sweet as a song._

He really should call her back. The text she’d sent him hours ago was halfway to an apology anyway; once they were talking they could work the rest of it out. He could suck up his pride and admit to his share of the blame. All he had to do was call.

_…_

He wasn’t calling. And when she called him, he didn’t answer.

 _Get it the fuck together, man._ River huffed a sigh of disgust at his own paralysis as the last ring of the holocall from V faded. Maybe he should go see her--talking in person was usually easier for him. The stakeout was a bust, anyway. He’d been watching for hours, and there was no sign of sinister agents or anything at all amiss at Joss’s place. Joss looked tired, more stressed than usual maybe, but the kids had played outside earlier so it wasn’t exactly a state of emergency.

He slung the rifle over his shoulder, and crept down behind the ridge before standing up and stretching out his back. The bike he’d borrowed from the Aldecaldos was waiting for him there. Mitch had said he could leave the machine with V if he didn’t want to haul it all the way back to the nomad camp on his own. With his Thorton full of holes last time he saw it--and probably well charred by now too, considering he left it parked in front of a burning building--that seemed like his best bet. He could make it to V’s place in less than an hour, they could talk, spend the night together, figure out a plan to deal with the unknown threat in the morning…

With the rifle securely strapped down to the bike’s gun rack, River swung his leg over the seat and flipped the ignition switch. The bike’s headlamp cut a bright beam across the desert floor, carving stark shadows out of rocks and dry brush. River winced.

 _Anyone watchin’ could spot that shit from miles away._ But he couldn’t exactly ride through the trackless desert at night without a light to see by. Movement would have to be his safety, since stealth was impossible. He eased off the clutch and rolled on the throttle, and the bike kicked into gear.

River used to have a bike of his own. Well, technically it had been the department’s, but he loved that thing. Something about hurtling down the road at speeds no human was meant to go with nothing but a helmet and a good jacket between him and the wind… felt right. He felt alive, awake, in tune with the erratic pulse that thrummed through Night City’s arterial streets and filthy alleys. It was different out here in the Badlands--he had to go slower, dodging cacti and boulders, occasionally being pelted by the gravel his thick tire treads tore from the loose earth. But the wind felt the same, pressing into him like a lover or battering him like an enemy. The hollow rush of air past his ears sounded the same too… until it didn’t.

There was a high, whining buzz. River saw a second spotlight that wasn’t cast by his bike sweeping across the ground ahead of him. Weaving sharply, he tried to avoid being caught in the beam, but then there was a third light and he couldn’t avoid it so he twisted the throttle and ducked low over the body of the bike as the engine roared into higher gear, catapulting him past the reach of the tracking lights.

The relief was momentary. Risking a glance over his shoulder, River bit back a curse. His pursuers were drones, and they were gaining on him, the hum of their propulsion systems getting louder as they drew closer. River’s desperate, reckless speed over the rough terrain meant nothing to them; their only trouble was the wind resistance pushing against their boxy, flying forms. A short burst of gunfire from a drone sent a stream of ammo whistling over his head, and River coaxed another gear shift out of the bike. If he could make it to the highway, maybe--

A rock in the darkness caught his front wheel, and he spun out violently, crashing to the earth. The last thing he saw before blacking out was the tidy white block script printed on the side of the drone that hovered above him, drenching him in the blue light of a full-body scan.

_Arasaka._


	29. V) Certain Stimuli

### V

_Arasaka._

It was so thoughtful of the armed thugs breaking into V’s apartment to wear corporate branding on their body armor. Really made it extra satisfying to know why they deserved it, as she grabbed the sidearm she kept within easy reach of her bed, and let the bodies hit the floor. The Malorian Arms pistol she got from Johnny was a beast, roaring like a dragon and kicking like a mule every time she squeezed the trigger. 

The first three troops through her door went down one after the other, V raising her aim accordingly to stay clear of the staggering form of the sequence’s previous target. _Bam_ \--kneecaps-- _bam_ \--chest-- _bam_ \--headshot. Non-lethal rounds, but fired with the kind of velocity a Malorian could deliver, none of the victims would be getting up any time soon.

V rolled out of bed and into her living area, taking shelter behind a low, sturdy shelf. A grenade careened through the doorway, tossed from the hallway outside. No place to run, so V buried her head in her arms and held her breath, hoping for a flashbang over chem gas.

Bright white light flooded the room, pushing into the thinnest crack between V’s eyelids, closely followed by the ear-shattering pop of the bang. Disoriented and dizzy but not dead, V hurled herself over the shelf and into the relative safety of her arms locker. The door slammed shut behind her just in time for the reinforced glass to splinter under a spray of bullets. The pane held, but it wouldn’t take much more than another round or two to break it. V had bought herself a few seconds, at best.

Her vision still awash in blotchy afterimages, she looked upwards, to where a ventilation grate was set in the wall above a tall cabinet. The vent hadn’t been big enough for her to climb through when she moved in, but she’d made a few modifications since then. Being paranoid about securing escape routes was rarely a waste of time, in her line of work. 

Trouble was, she hadn’t anticipated her intrusive guests to have so much firepower when she set the route up. She’d counted on the beefed-up ICE she’d installed on the front door and the bulletproof glass on the locker to slow down her enemies enough to buy her a chance to climb to the vent. Clearly Arasaka had enough money to hire a netrunner better than her to break through her digital defenses, and the tech for weaponry that made the word “bulletproof” a fucking joke.

Calculations computed and judgement reached in microseconds, V decided she didn’t have time to run. They’d breach the door before she got to the vent. Fortification was her next option. Using the inhuman strength granted by her artificial bones and musculature, she ripped the heavy cabinet full of weapons off the wall and braced it in front of the cracking door pane. Her ears were still ringing like a motherfucker, but she could make out the sound of more bullets hitting the glass, and then raised voices as the corpo-soldiers debated something aggressively among themselves.

They had to be trying to take her alive; the makeshift defense she’d erected wouldn’t do shit if they were okay with using the ordinance to blow her up along with it. That meant they were hesitating. V re-estimated her calculations, taking that info into account, and came up with a new answer. _Time to go._

She leapt easily on top of the small desk where she performed minor repairs, and stepped from there onto a stack of ammo crates. Her fingers curled around the grate and sank in, the metal yielding to her grip like warm butter-substitute, before tearing the thing from the wall and letting it fall to the ground as a twisted wreck. Glass shattered and fell as a harsh blow struck the pane behind the cabinet, and V hauled herself up into the vent and squirmed around a corner as fast as she could manage.

As her hearing slowly returned, V was picking up a lot of useless noise in the drafty, echoing vents. Outside her apartment’s soundproof walls, she couldn’t distinguish gunfire and possible pursuit from the arguing neighbors and cranked-up stereos and booming billboard advertisements and the omnipresent buzz of power running to the megabuilding’s thousands of SCSMs. She shuffled along on her hands and knees, taking as many turns as she dared, mostly at random. She had a grid map of the ventilation system overlaid on her optic feed, but anyone following her without one would be hopelessly lost in short order. 

That was the idea, anyway. V couldn’t tell if it was working or not, and she might not know if it had failed until she caught a tranq or a bullet in the neck. She needed more information. Pausing at a crossroads-type juncture of the vent shafts, she took a path that led to a T-bend and hid just around the corner, invisible from the intersection. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing to meditative levels of quiet. Her cyberdeck accepted her mental instructions--the thing was almost as much a part of her as Johnny was, and a hell of a lot more cooperative.

Still no word from the engram. V searched for his presence in her mind and felt nothing but an emptiness so thick it was cloying, stifling. _Fuckin’ perfect night for the blockers, well done._ She pulled away and dove into the streams of data and color that her deck was feeding her. Connections forged in cyberspace could snap in a really fucking painful instant, if the ‘runner wasn’t careful.

V was pretty careful. Building was too cheap to have surveillance of its own, but that was fine by V. She could DIY a lot of shit. She tapped into the encrypted feed of the security cam she’d set up to watch her front door, hidden in the panel of a vending machine. 

Arasaka troops were still there--almost a dozen, at least. Some had filed into her apartment and were scanning the enviro with guns drawn, like they were expecting a fucking ambush. V would have laughed if she weren’t so pissed. Her place was barely more than a main room and a couple of closets; where did they think she was keeping her reinforcements? 

The squad members she’d shot had been dragged out into the hallway and were being tended to by a medic. One guy standing off to the side was in a business suit, rather than the corp-branded black riot gear everyone else wore, and he seemed to be on a holocall. To V’s horror, his gaze swerved sharply towards the disguised camera she watched from, until he was staring straight down the lens, his eyes sparking with electric blue power.

A holocall from an unknown number was ringing in her audio. She answered with a growing sense of dread lurching in her guts, keeping her video off. “Yeah?”

“Hello.” It was not a voice she recognized. Prim, female, well past middle-age if she had to guess. “We have reason to negotiate.” Slight trace of a Japanese accent, which made sense for an Arasaka executive. For all they claimed to be a global megacorp, their promotion strategy in the upper echelons verged on nationalistic.

V kept her voice flat and neutral. “Do we?”

“Do you know this man?” A video feed popped open on V’s optics.

_River._

She couldn’t see any of his surroundings; the camera was kept tight on his face. Scrapes and bruises littered his skin, and his eyes were shut and twitching beneath their lids. An active braindance wreath encircled his skull.

“No,” she said, attempting indifference, but it came out too harsh.

The woman was coldly skeptical. “That is curious, because he knows you. He broke into a hospital last week with the express purpose of extracting you, we believe. While you were not the only patient he released, you were the only one I was there to see, which makes his decision to plant a listening device on my person very interesting indeed. Another curious matter: his unconscious mind responds to certain stimuli with an image of your face. Am I to understand that his apparent fascination with you is entirely one-sided? Should that be the case, he has served his sole purpose in helping us locate you, and he can readily be disposed of.” 

The same method of using BD tech to scan a person’s dreams that V and River had innovated together, to hunt a killer and save Randy’s life, was now being used against them. Irony was a fucking bitch. V tipped her head back against the side of the vent and tried not to scream, digging her nails into her palms so hard it hurt. Pain was good--pain was _focus_. “What do you want from me?”

“Only our legal property. The biochip known as the Relic, and all associated genetic material.”

“Associated genetic… y’mean me. ‘Cuz it’s grown into me, changin’ me.” V felt so damn hollow all of a sudden. She almost wished Johnny was there to yell and rant and make everything worse. Loud and mad was better than this sick, strange quiet.

“Precisely. You will surrender yourself to the custody of Arasaka at these coordinates, at this time. You will arrive promptly, alone, and unarmed.” A set of instructions was beamed to V via cyberlink. “Failure to comply in any manner will result in the death of the hostage. Your cooperation will ensure his survival. Do you understand?” Her tone was brisk, almost bored, sentences clipped for efficiency.

V understood. Much as she wished she didn’t. “Yes.”

“Good. You have twenty minutes to reach the rendezvous point.” Without further ceremony, the call cut off.

“FUCK!” V screamed, slamming her fist into the shaft behind her so hard that the metal caved and groaned. The merc buried her face in her hands, trying to think of something-- _anything_ \--that would get them out of this. But she couldn’t think straight; everything was moving too fast, tumbling through her brain like an industrial wash cycle, and all she could see even with her optic feed inactive was River’s dreaming face.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she muttered again, and this time her voice caught on a sob. She set down the Malorian pistol that she had carried with her into the vents. She unknotted the colorful braided bracelet Lupe had made from her wrist. With greater hesitation, she reached for the dog tags around her neck and drew them off, placing both items gently beside the gun. Her own stupid little shrine. She marked the location on her map of the ventilation system, on the distant, desperate chance that she’d be able to come back for them someday.

 _Ever the optimist._ Her internal voice sounded so disgusted with herself that she could almost believe it was Johnny speaking.

Johnny was gonna _hate_ this.


	30. J) Any Way But Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** domestic abuse, kinda? (what do you call it when the guy you share a brain with beats you up?) Also kink-shaming and slurs against women.
> 
> -KB

### Johnny

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” the engram raged, pacing back and forth across the bare, sterile room. Everything was so goddamn white, from the blinding LEDs shining on the ceiling to the crisp paper hospital gown V wore.

The merc was curled up in a corner, hugging her legs and glaring at Johnny over the tops of her knees. “Was thinkin’ I didn’t want River to die. Obviously.”

“So this was your solution? Unconditional fuckin’ surrender?!” Johnny snarled. He kept phasing in and out of reality at different points around the room, and he couldn’t really control it when he was this fucking furious.

“Yeah. Out of a wide field of sucky options, it sucked the least.” V’s tone was as grim as her posture was defensive.

“That is such complete BULLSHIT!” Silverhand exploded, vanishing from across the room to reappear two inches from V’s face, glitching through the rest of her body and part of the floor to do so. She jerked back violently, but she’d cornered herself and had nowhere to go as he berated her. “You KNOW we shoulda gone down fightin’! We both spent too many damn years in cages to die any way but free.”

V turned her head and shut her eyes, and Johnny dematerialized. When he came back, he was on the other side of the room again, both hands braced against the wall and shoulders straining as if he could shove the whole thing down. He couldn’t actually touch the physical wall, of course, but he could beat against the barrier it represented in V’s mind all damn day. And he fully intended to.

Backing up a bit, Johnny got a running start and flung himself forward, twisting in the air so he hit the wall hard with the side of his body. It didn’t hurt because he didn’t feel pain that wasn’t V’s, and it didn’t knock the wind out of him because he didn’t breathe. All he felt was the jolt of momentum halted, the weight of implied physics that sent him staggering back as hard as he hit it. He backed up halfway across the room to get up speed and did it again.

“Johnny, don’t--” V started to protest, but she cut herself off and looked away. Which just infuriated Silverhand further.

“Don’t _what_?” he spat, whirling to face her. “Quit cringin’, goddammit! If you got shit to say to me then fuckin’ say it.”

She fucking cringed again. He could feel her pulling away from him even in their mind, see the way his unrestrained temper was shutting her down, sending her to dark places where he couldn’t reach her. But he was so goddamn angry and the more scared and helpless she acted the madder it made him--it wasn’t _right_ for V to be so weak--none of this was _right._

He hadn’t seen her like this since the night they met.

_Both of them woke from the chaos and turmoil of each other’s dreams to find themselves face to face with a stranger. Neither of them had taken it well._

_“The fuck kinda joytoy are you supposed to be?” Johnny sneered. His senses were lying to him and that was all he knew. Prior experience suggested drugs and hookers were likely culprits for his current predicament, but he must’ve been on some real hard shit if he’d paid for this bitch. Not his type at all._

_She was probably on the same stuff, because she was clutching her skull between her hands and curling up on the bed, whimpering like a damn dog. She wouldn’t look at him._

_“Hey,” he snapped, grabbing her arm and hauling her into a sitting position. “Answer me, dammit! Who do you work for?!” Whole thing reeked of corpo shit--but then she flinched and her arm phased through his fucking grip and his hand was a blur of pixels for a second and **what in seven levels of fuck** was going on--_

_Arasaka Tower. The bomb. Adam Smasher. Torture. Mikoshi. Memories came flooding in and he stumbled back, leaning heavily against the wall beside the bed. He was dead. He was a psychic construct on a goddamn computer chip. Who the fuck was the chick?! She didn’t look like some ‘Saka cunt who’d slotted his chip to gloat--but it didn’t matter. Whoever she was, she was in his way._

_She was reaching for a bottle of pills and he didn’t know how he knew but he **knew** what they were for. Shut him up. Trap him. He slapped the bottle out of her hands so hard it sailed halfway across the room before it hit the floor, scattering its contents._

_“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he growled. She was struggling to get to her feet--she was weak, injured somehow--but Johnny had no sympathy for anyone trying to cage him. She fell and started to crawl towards the pills, but he grabbed her by the back of the neck and dragged her upright, before slamming her face into the solid, thick plastic windowpane. Darkness made the surface reflective, but Johnny only saw her._

_“I’ll take control,” he promised, feeling the drumming of her terrified heartbeat in his own chest. “I’ll find a way. You hear me?!” Somehow he was part of her now, or she was part of him. Thanks to ‘Saka and their fucking chip. But he was stronger than her. He drove her face into the pane again and again until her blood splattered the plastic. He wasn’t going down without a fight._

_Not that she was putting much effort into fighting him. He dropped her in a heap on the floor and she just laid there on her side, eyes glassy and unfocused. So fucking pathetic. He kicked her hard in the stomach and she cried out, doubling over into a protective ball._

_“I can feel it… our minds, touching,” he muttered, pacing the length of the small, shitty apartment. “Creepin’ into you like mold on fruit. Makes me sick.”_

_There was nothing he could do. Whatever this chick had started when she slotted him in her neural port, there was no stopping it. More and more by the second, he **felt** her--felt her pain and the hot blood leaking from some stitches he’d torn when he kicked her, felt the black terror that threatened to swallow her whole. Swallow them both. _

_She was crawling for the pills again. Johnny crouched between her and the bottle. She wasn’t getting away from him so easily._

_“Lead to the head, only thing that’ll fix this.” His metal fingers caught her hair and yanked, forcing her chin up so she met his gaze. “Hear me, bitch? A bullet to the fucking brain!” Suicidal was a new look for Johnny, but at the moment a clean, simple death sounded infinitely preferable to whatever fucked up fate awaited him being absorbed into a stranger’s mind._

_But then something even fucking weirder happened. The bitch was staring at him, because he wouldn’t let her look away, and her throat bobbed. She gulped, and her gaze drifted down his torso and lower, and Johnny felt heat prickling under his skin. No--hers. Was she--_

_He dropped her abruptly and backed up several steps. She didn’t look glassy or distant at all anymore--seemed very, acutely aware and alert, in fact. Her skin was too dark to make out a blush but Johnny could feel it where she felt it, and she was feeling it everywhere. She was feeling… a lot of things._

_Was this chick actually getting turned on by him beating the shit of her?_

_“Jesus fuck,” Johnny cursed, dragging a palm down his face. “You are one fucked up piece of ass.”_

_She snorted, and it turned into a cough and then a raspy, breathless laugh. “Yeah. But most people just call me V.” Faster than he’d thought she could move, her hand darted out to grab a pill and down it. He jerked towards her but it was too late; the edges of his perception were buzzing and fading into white static. Last thing he heard was V’s taunting, “Welcome to the shitshow, Johnny Silverhand.”_

_It kinda sounded like she liked him._

With a snarl of frustration, Johnny hurled himself against the wall for a third time, and a fourth. When he was backing up for a fifth go, V finally spoke. “Don’t hurt yourself,” she said quietly.

Silverhand laughed, and the sound was cold and bitter even by his usual misanthropic standards. “Can’t. Even if I wanted to. Not unless--” he stopped, an awful idea striking him. He stalked towards V and she must have seen the glint in his eyes, because she scrambled to her feet, her hands curling into fists like she was going to fight him.

_Good. For fuck’s sake-- **fight.**_

His hands closed around her shoulders and he slammed her back against the wall. To an outside observer it probably looked like V had stumbled backwards over nothing, but he could feel her muscles flex under the ghostly approximations of his hands, and he knew she could feel him pinning her there with more than physical force.

“I only get to feel what you feel.” His voice was a low rumble in his throat as his thumbs dug into the meat of her biceps. “So if I gotta hurt… means I gotta hurt _you_.” 

Johnny wasn’t a particularly tall man, but V was shorter than average and he towered over her. His black hair fell around the pair of them like a curtain, shadowing their faces from the rest of the world. V’s eyes were wide and her lips slightly parted as she took in quick, shallow breaths. Johnny felt a hot surge of _need_ building below the belt line, and he knew she was coming back to him.

His expression of dispassionate sadism broke into a more traditional smirk. “Christ, V. You’re such a goddamn freak.”

He could see her mentally freeze frame and rewind through the last few moments ‘til she had caught up with him, which was actually pretty hilarious to watch. Her gaze narrowed and she shoved him off of her--well, tried to. Her hands went right through his chest. Johnny stepped back anyway because he was a gentleman like that.

“You’re--” V apparently had no words for what he was, having to settle for a choked noise of disgust and a glare.

“I know,” the engram agreed, happy to have her glaring knives at him again instead of flinching whenever he moved. He remembered a second later that he was still pissed at her for their current living situation.

V folded her arms, scowling. _At least she’s not fuckin’ fetal anymore,_ thought Johnny. 

“You done?” the merc asked harshly.

“Yeah. You?”

“No I am fuckin’ not, Johnny! You’re--you can’t just--”

“What, turn you on to win arguments? Nothin’ in the rulebook against it. I checked.” He folded his arms in an intentional mirror of her pose, raising an eyebrow as a challenge.

“First of all--that is--we were not havin’ an argument! You were yellin’ at me for somethin’ that ain’t altogether my fault and pitchin’ a fit like a goddamn toddler!”

“Sexy toddler. Judgin’ by the way you were starin’ at me and that feelin’ between your--” She slapped him. He kinda felt it. Rubbing his cheek, he grinned at her. “Yeah. I know you’re hot for me, doll. I can fuckin’ tell.”

V looked livid, the muscles of her neck standing out like wires. “You wanna fuckin’ drop this, Silverhand. Know you’re tryin’ to piss me off--not sure why, but you’re gonna get more than you bet on if you don’t step it the fuck back. Now.”

Johnny heard the steel in her voice and felt the tension at her core that held her spine straight and her head high. _There_ she was. 

He lifted his hands in a casual mockery of surrender. “Consider me steppin’.”

The merc didn’t drop her guard. Johnny watched her do her calming-breath shit and waited as her fingers uncurled from their fists and went slack. When she finally spoke again, it was in the mental voice that only he could hear. Probably for the best, considering the surveillance cam in the high corner of the room and the plate of darkened glass set in one wall that was almost definitely a two-way mirror.

_‘Okay. I get why you’re mad. This is all… fucking awful. What I don’t get is why you’re mad **at me**. You know me--you know I couldn’t let them hurt him.’_

Johnny scoffed. “Badge would agree with me. He was done for soon as he got caught; wouldn’t’ve wanted to drag you down with him.”

_‘Could be you’re right. You’re both the kind of assholes who’ll martyr yourselves before givin’ anyone else a chance to get in on the fun.’_

“If that’s so, I picked it up from you. Absolutely fuckin’ no one would’ve pinned me for a martyr complex when I was alive. Like myself too damn much for that shit.”

 _‘Johnny. You hate yourself. Always did. Too dumb to realize before you died that all that anger you were haulin’ around wasn’t just ‘cuz the world was broken. It was ‘cuz you blamed yourself for not bein’ able to fix it. You woulda jumped on board the martyr train a long time ago if you didn’t think everyone else was just as bad as you. Not worth dyin’ for.'_ Johnny was no great student of emotional expression, but V's exasperation could’ve been seen from space. _'The sheer fuckin’ arrogance of you is downright staggerin’, Silverhand.’_

“Now that last part sounds more like me,” Johnny said. His lips were twitching like he wanted to smile. Why did being seen for what he was, known to the festering depths of his soul by her… feel so good? 

He had once been the type to throw up every damn mask and shield he could find, between himself and his fans, his friends… between himself and _himself_. He had avoided introspection, intimacy, like they were harbingers of death. Hell--he’d run headlong towards death the moment he’d felt a connection with someone that went deeper than skin. And the connection between him and this infuriating gonk of a merc went way deeper than that. But when she looked at him… the shame, the judgement, the disgust he’d feared was his due and leveled against everyone close to him before they could turn it on him--V’s gaze didn’t hold any of it. She just… knew him. And it was okay.

‘Course she was still pissed at him, which was fair. He’d been a dick to her on purpose. A normal person would apologize in this scenario. But as much as Johnny had changed since he’d met her… he hadn’t changed _that_ much.

“Point is, I’m right,” he said, his grin widening as she rolled her eyes. “Badge wouldn’t want you to sacrifice yourself to save him. Weren’t you givin’ me hell a couple days ago for tryin’ to protect you ‘thout your permission?”

 _‘Fuck River and whatever the fuck he wants,’_ V snapped. Clearly, the engram had touched a raw nerve there. _‘He tried to ditch me first. If he’d let me help to begin with neither of us woulda been caught and we wouldn’t be stuck in this goddamn shithole.’_

The schadenfreude was immense. Johnny’s tone was approaching downright gleeful. “Are you actually blamin’ the badge? ‘Cuz fuck, V, you know I’m always good to kick that asshole while he’s down, but even I gotta admit that he had nothin’ to do with this. Fact is, ‘Saka wants you--us--not him. If you’d gone to play house with him like I fuckin’ told ya ‘stead of takin’ that gonk asylum gig, none of this would have happened.”

 _‘Fine!’_ V set her jaw, eyes blazing. _‘It’s my fault. I made a bad call--few of ‘em in a row. I fucked up. I’m selfish, and a hypocrite, and a fuckin’ gonk. That what you wanna hear?’_

The engram’s delight drained away swiftly. “No,” he said, seriously. “Not at all.”

V let out a strangled noise of frustration. _‘Then make up your fuckin’ mind, Johnny! What do you want from me?!’_

“I want you to fuckin’ live, V.”

She seemed taken aback by the intensity of his stare. _‘Well, that’s--that ain’t an option anymore, is it?’_ she asked, quiet and bitter. _‘Never really was.’_

There wasn’t anything more to say. If she wasn't gonna fight, then...

He could take over. It would be so damn easy. What was left of her psyche was held together with strings and chewing gum. The Relic had carved her up and hollowed her out to make a nice cozy nest for him. He didn’t want it, but it was there anyway. All it would take was him deciding to grab the wheel. All it would cost him was… her.

V had forgiven Johnny for a whole lot of shit, starting with the “trying to put her face through a window” fiasco and continuing past “getting a stupid tattoo while she was unconscious” up to the most recent “inadvertently trapping her in her worst nightmare for over a week.” The woman had the patience of a saint, even if she swore like a sailor about it the whole time. But if he betrayed her now, tried to save her and risked the badge’s life in the process… whether or not they made it out, Johnny knew it would be the end of the trust between them. She would never forgive him.

It dawned on him with uncomfortable clarity that he would quite literally rather die than break V’s trust. Even if he knew for sure she’d live through it and he wouldn’t, freeing him from facing the direct consequences… he couldn’t stand the thought of her remembering him that way. As an enemy who saved her life against her wishes, instead of a partner who respected her choices all the way to the grave. They were in this together, now to the fucking end.

She wasn’t getting away from him so easily.


	31. V) Minor Imbalance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahha, so I wrote that V/Jackie/Misty threesome dream sequence because... no one came to my house and confiscated my keyboard? Uhhh anyway I know Misty's collar has spikes and not an O-ring but I am TAKING LIBERTIES and good grief y'all really should have stopped me sooner. Too late now! You're gonna hear allll about Misty's service kink and Jackie's huge cock.
> 
> Why am I like this. T_T
> 
>  **CW:** nonconsensual medical sterilization is mentioned, s m u t.
> 
> -KB

### V

The dream started out as a memory.

_V was warm and safe, tucked in bed between Jackie and Misty. The air in Misty’s room smelled heavily of patchouli incense, and her quilt--long since kicked to the floor by their antics--was decorated with a spiraling pattern of forgotten constellations._

_It was the morning after the first time the three of them had hooked up, V remembered. A part of her was detached enough to view the scene from the outside. She hadn’t opened her eyes yet--the part of her that was in bed, anyway. Any moment now--_

_Her eyes opened and met Jackie’s. He was awake, a wide smile of content on his face. V yawned._

_“‘Sup, Jack?” she whispered in case Misty was still asleep._

_“Just thinkin’ how I’m the luckiest gonk in the city. Wakin’ up next to the two most beautiful mamitas.” His grin was spreading to approach shit-eating levels. V laughed softly._

_“Mmhm, and don’t you forget it, mister.” Misty’s lilting voice was muzzy with sleep. V felt the other woman curl up closer to her. She smoothed back Misty’s shaggy mane of hair and planted a kiss on her forehead. Misty let out a little hum of quiet happiness._

_V was happy too. Incredibly, indescribably so. Caught between the comforting sturdiness of Jackie’s broad frame and the softness of Misty snuggling into her, she was pretty much in heaven. She fumbled for the right words, the way to tell them what they both meant to her… how they made her feel._

_“Love you guys,” she murmured at last, embarrassed both by her sincerity and lack of originality._

_“Aww, V! You are the sweetest thing,” Misty crooned, peering up at V from beneath her lashes. “Love you too, girl.”_

_Jackie lightly punched V’s shoulder. “Ain’t goin’ all mushy on me now, chica? I’ll kick your ass at darts until you’re good an’ pissed off again.”_

_“Jackie,” Misty said, almost stern. “Respect V’s emotional truth. You’ll clog your chakras if you pretend you don’t care.”_

_Jackie groaned, but it turned into a chuckle. “You see what this woman puts me through, V? Ain’t enough that a fella’s employed, witty, charmin’--”_

_“Ridiculously good-looking, and modest,” V added helpfully._

_“Ay! All that, and he’s gotta get his chakras aligned too, to keep this one happy.” He blew a kiss at Misty over V’s head._

_“Sounds like a full load,” V agreed with feigned gravitas. “Probably for the best you’ve brought in an independent contractor to handle your girlfriend’s orgasms for ya.”_

_Misty burst out laughing and Jackie smirked, completely unabashed by V’s teasing. “That what this is? Here I thought I was doin’ you a favor, V. Us bein’ partners and all, wouldn’t want ya to miss out on the best pussy in the city. Tastes real fuckin’ good, don’t she?”_

_V didn’t exactly have any comparable experience, but Misty was blushing and smiling so she followed Jackie’s cue. “Preem,” she agreed. “Fuckin’ gourmet.”_

_Misty buried her face in the pillow and both of her tormentors laughed. When she raised her head again she was flushed bright red all the way down to her chest. “That’s enough talkin’ about me like I’m not here,” she pouted. “Anyway, this wasn’t either of your ideas and you both should be thankin’ me for getting you in bed together before your vibrations got any more agitated.”_

_V didn’t know shit about vibrations, but she knew she felt a whole lot fucking better today than she had yesterday. “You’re the best, Misty,” she said, fervent. “Don’t know what I’d do without ya.”_

_Jackie propped himself up on one elbow. “Me neither. Probably still be workin’ corners for the ‘Tinos and dreamin’ of the day I’d finally man up and bet on myself ‘stead of shovelin’ other people’s shit.” He leaned over V, towards Misty, and she sat up to meet him in the middle. “Mi amor,” he said, husky and fond. “You’re the reason for everything good in my life. I thank God and the Santa Madre for you every day. And I thank you today for givin’ a couple of gonk assholes like me an’ V the time of our lives last night.”_

_“Hey. You’re the gonk asshole. I’m a gonk bastard. Totally different,” V protested, with a lazy grin. “But yeah. Last night was fuckin’ nova. Thanks, Misty.”_

_Misty smiled serenely at both of them. “You’re welcome. Also--shop’s closed today.”_

_“That so?” Jackie’s smirk was turning wicked fast._

_“Yep. Holiday. I just decided.” Misty nodded and rolled upright to kneel on the mattress._

_“Weird coincidence. Today’s a holiday for mercs too. Got no jobs lined up. How ‘bout you, V?” The glance Jackie aimed at her was an invitation._

_“My schedule’s clear,” she said, her heart beating a little faster. Technically not true, but she could make it true if she took a break to send a couple of emails before noon. Not right now though because Jackie and Misty were both looking at her like they wanted to eat her and it was very distracting._

_All three of them were already naked--except for the leather collar Misty wore around her neck. Jackie reached for it and looped his index finger through the metal ring at the front, tugging his output gently towards him. V folded her arms behind her head where she lay and watched the pair make out above her, enjoying the sounds they both made. At one point Misty moved like she was going to pull away, maybe to say something--but Jackie let out a possessive growl and yanked hard on the collar, making her gasp and shudder._

_V froze. “Do that again,” she said, so softly that she wasn’t sure they’d hear her. But Jackie broke the kiss and grinned down at her._

_“What--this?” he asked innocently, and tugged sharply. Misty’s gasp was a little louder this time, with a moan beneath it, playing to her appreciative audience._

_Fuck._

_V struggled to sit up, craning her neck to get a better view. “Yeah. That.”_

_Why was that so fucking hot?_

_“I think my partner wants me to be a little rough with you, hermosa,” Jackie mused slyly, his free hand moving to caress Misty’s cheek. “Would you like that?”_

_She nuzzled into his palm, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “Yes, please.”_

_Jackie Welles didn’t have a cruel bone in his body. V knew that. But the way her friend pulled Misty onto his lap, like she weighed almost nothing, and buried one hand in her hair while the other dug into her flank... he kissed her so callously, like his pleasure was the only thing that mattered, and when she squirmed he smacked her ass so hard she squealed. V watched the impact of the blow ripple across Misty’s flesh and listened to the way the other woman sighed when Jackie grabbed her by the collar and held her fast, keeping a few teasing inches between their lips._

_“Can’t keep you all to myself, mi corazón. Wouldn’t be hospitable,” Jackie said, his eyes glinting with mischief. Guiding her with his grip on the back of her collar, he manhandled Misty ‘til her face hovered over V’s._

_V met the other woman’s gaze, and felt the dizzy yearning she saw there reflected and magnified by her own desire, passing between them like a current. She lunged up and captured Misty’s mouth with hers, kissing her hard, sinking her teeth into the girl’s lower lip until she felt her whimper and struggle--but Jackie held her firmly in place. V released her and pulled back slightly, resting their foreheads together, before darting out her tongue to lick Misty’s freshly-bitten lips and the marks she’d left there. Misty let out a pretty little moan, her eyes wide and shining. Both women were breathing hard, and V watched the way Misty’s tits swayed with each heave of her chest._

_“There, see? Sharin’ is nice.” Jackie sounded amused, but there was an edge beneath it--a rumble from low in his throat that V had never heard before last night._

_Misty was more familiar with her input’s intonations, and her gaze slipped to the sheet that was draped carelessly over Jackie’s lower body. Following the look, V could see the shape of him pressing against the fabric and a spot of wetness seeping through._

_Ever the showman, Jackie grinned and waggled his eyebrows at them. “Somethin’ on your mind, chicas?” V looked away quickly, embarrassed, but Misty just smirked and let out a hum of affirmation. “Gotta say, it’s gratifyin’, bein’ the center of attention like… was feelin’ a little lonely, last night.” His voice was a lazy drawl, his eyes half-hooded as he pulled Misty towards him again and pushed her head down, flinging the sheet aside. “You girls havin’ all the fun… ‘bout time I got a turn with that mouth of yours.”_

_Misty smiled eagerly for the split second before he forced his cock past her lips. V inhaled sharply. She watched Misty bob up and down on Jackie’s length, noting the dark eyeliner smeared and streaked down her cheeks from the night before, and the way her lower lip was flushed and swollen from V’s bite. Jackie released his hold on her collar and knotted his fingers in her messy hair, sometimes controlling the pace and sometimes letting her move as she wanted. V found her hand was drifting southwards on her own body, caressing her folds, one finger slipping between them to press against her clit._

_Her breath hitched. Jackie noticed, his gaze sliding sideways along with his smile. “C’mere,” he murmured, lifting a hand from Misty’s mane just long enough to tap on his own broad pectorals. Three bullet scars marred his skin there--souvenirs of a gang war. “Better view.”_

_Hesitantly, V scooted closer, laying her head down on Jackie’s chest above his heart. He was right. The view was better. She could see the way Misty moved, the suction of her cheeks and the pulsing of her throat as she sank down on the girth of him--and when she opened her eyes to look up through her lashes, they were round and needy, empty of anything but lust. V’s insides clenched so hard she thought she might die. She buried her fingers in her cunt, working frantically to relieve the pressure that was building quicker than she’d imagined possible._

_She was starting to writhe a bit, and Jackie was groaning, his hips flexing and his hands tightening harshly in Misty’s hair. The girl gagged briefly and V swallowed hard like she felt it too. Jackie let Misty up to breathe, and why was that disappointing to V, what the fuck was wrong with her--_

_“Keep her there,” she begged, too horny to interrogate whatever fucked up desire this was. “Please.”_

_Jackie and Misty shared a look, a silent request answered by a nod and a grin from Misty. Consent obtained, he pulled her down hard with a primal growl, and held her there as he fucked her face. She whimpered and thrashed, her hands scrabbling and shoving uselessly against his thick thighs, nails digging in--_

_V lost her damn mind, eyes rolling back with the force of the climax that took her body. Her ragged panting in his ear seemed to set Jackie off too, and he let out a hoarse, fervent, “fuck!” as his back arched and he spent himself down Misty’s open throat._

_Misty wiped her chin on the back of her hand and climbed up the bed, burrowing in between her two recovering partners. She took V’s hand from between her thighs and brought it to her lips, licking the juices off her fingers one at a time. When she was finished, she kissed V, and as their tongues swept together V tasted herself and Jackie mingled together. The merc moaned softly._

_“Fuck, Misty…” she murmured, regarding the other woman with astonished pleasure. “You’re… you’re a fuckin’ goddess.”_

_Misty laughed in her musical way, pride and satisfaction stamped clearly in her expression and posture. Jackie rumbled out his own small chuckle. “Right about that, chica.” The man sounded… not nearly as tired as V would have expected._

_She looked over at him curiously. He was nice to look at, she supposed. She hadn’t thought about him in that way before yesterday, but now… her gaze traced his frame, taking in the breadth and solidity of his shoulders, the curve of his stomach that was just soft enough to grab and sink her hands in, the way light caught and reflected off the delicate metallic lines of the cyberware embedded in his facial structure. She liked his stubborn jaw, and his kind eyes, and his big, thick-fingered hands. Her observations drifted a little lower. She hadn’t had the chance to take a good look yet without his hand or Misty’s face in the way, but she was looking now and--fuck. Jackie was big, in every way._

_He caught her staring and grinned. “I oughtta charge admission, eh? No chrome neither--all natural, Heywood-grown meat. Good for what ails ya.” The meat in question twitched. The refractory period was apparently a myth._

_V felt heat rising in her cheeks, as well as in… other parts of her. She averted her eyes and Misty giggled, catching V’s face between her hands._

_“You are so cute!” the girl gushed. “Don’t get shy now, honey. You were so good about asking before! Ask for what you want.”_

_“But--you haven’t--shouldn’t it be your turn--?” V stuttered awkwardly. She was a couple of years older than both her friends, but she felt so fucking naive around them sometimes. They’d both had other lovers, other partners before they met each other, this wasn’t… new territory for them the way it was for her._

_Not that V was inexperienced, but her experience wasn’t really comparable. A handful of stumbling hookups with strangers in dark clubs, none of which were anything like being here, with two of the people she cared most about in the world smiling at her, sharing pleasure between them all like there was plenty to spare and nothing better to do._

_“Trust me--when it’s my turn, you’ll know. Gonna put that sweet tongue of yours to work,” Misty said, squishing V’s cheeks together and shaking the other woman’s head back and forth before V shoved her off, laughing. “For someone who’s never been with a girl before, you’re a natural. My man could stand to learn a thing or two from you.”_

_“Ouch, Misty. Woundin’ my pride, here,” Jackie said, rolling onto his back with a melodramatic sigh. He did not look particularly wounded, already more than half-mast._

_“Persistence is key, Jackie! The yonic energies are powerful, but they take time to build. You eat pussy like you’re starvin’, V eats like she’s savoring. Not that I don’t love your enthusiasm, but a little variety’s nice too,” Misty chided playfully._

_“Variety, huh?” Jackie mused, smirking up at her. “Sounds like fun. Might have time for that right after I finish uncloggin’ my chakras.” His output swatted him lightly across the chest, and he pulled her down in a bear hug, laughing as he kissed her._

_V loved them both so goddamn much it hurt a little._

_“V?” Misty purred a few moments later. “Get over here, girl.”_

_V crawled toward them on the bed, and was promptly tackled and smothered into the couple’s embrace. They took turns kissing her, tilting her chin from one of them to the other until she was dizzy and drunk with their taste._

_“I have restraints,” Misty breathed near V’s ear. “Somethin’ you’d like to try…?”_

_V swallowed, her heart rate accelerating rapidly. “I’d break ‘em,” she said regretfully. “Not on purpose, but--can’t always control myself when I’m thrashin’ around. These synth muscles I got--otherwise I would, Misty, that sounds fuckin’ amazing.”_

_“Maybe we’ll figure something out later, then.” Misty nibbled at the side of V’s neck, distracting the merc entirely from that train of thought. “Meantime… I wanna see you ride Jackie’s cock.”_

_V’s rational function screeched to a halt. “Um--” she said, like a gonk. She tried to remember how breathing worked._

_Misty took her moment of overwhelm as something else though, and hastily walked herself back. “Only if you both want to, I mean--if that sounds like fun? I think it would be hot, but I don’t know, V, we don’t have condoms and if you’re worried about pregnancy--” They’d all already beamed each other copies of their STI test results. Everything current and correct, courtesy of Vik. Sometimes having a friend who was both a medical professional and an incorrigible nag paid off._

_“Nah,” V said hoarsely, grasping for more stable conversational ground. “Tubes tied. Long time ago.” A small mercy from an unmerciful man. Not that it had been done for her benefit--Franco just didn’t want his access to her body or mind hindered by any inconvenient conditions. V considered it a blessing all the same. If Franco or any of his cronies had gotten her pregnant… even assuming she carried to term in that slice of hell, she couldn’t imagine looking at the blameless kid with anything but hate in her heart. It made her a monster, maybe, but coming to accept or love any part of that man… no._

_Never._

_“I just--I need a minute,” she mumbled, disentangling herself from the pile of sheets and limbs. She staggered getting out of bed, leaning hard on the wall. “Water?” she asked quietly._

_“Under the desk.” Misty pointed out a small refrigerated cabinet._

_V got a drink and tossed one to Jackie when he asked. The coldness of the can bit into her fingers, reminding her of the present and dragging her senses out of the shadows of the past. She was safe. She was here. She held the can to her heated throat ‘til it made her shiver before popping the top to take a drink._

_“You really don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, V,” Misty said, a small dent of concern between her brows._

_“Ain’t like that,” V replied. She took another gulp of water before continuing. “I want to. Uhh--real fuckin’ bad.” She grinned sheepishly. “Kinda--caught me off guard, the wantin’. Not used to it.” The look shared between Jackie and Misty was enough to tell her that had been a really sad thing to say._

_Shit._

_“Not used to wantin’, chica?” Jackie’s voice was too soft, too gentle. It kind of pissed V off._

_Her hands curled into fists. “Yeah. Shit, this is all… you two are just--sorry I’m such a fuckin’ gonk.”_

_“That’s it. Come back to bed,” Misty said sternly, patting the mattress beside her. “Your aura is getiin’ all stormy.”_

_V huffed out a laugh and drained the rest of her can. “Yes ma’am.” Her tension began to evaporate as her friends welcomed her back into their arms._

_This is a dream, she remembered. Outside herself once again, she watched the three bodies on the bed twist and curve around each other, humming and sighing. This isn’t real._

_In real life, had she gone back to bed? Or had she mumbled some gonk excuse about work and left--spent the day alone, dwelling on things she shouldn’t? She couldn’t quite convince herself of one or the other, but the latter sounded more like her gonk ass. Why hadn’t she taken every chance she had to be happy? Jackie was gone now, and everything was different. That day she’d spent wrapped up in sunlight and the warmth of her friends would never happen again. If it had happened in the first place. If she hadn’t run from it._

_She wasn’t running now. She was on the bed and on top of Jackie, clenching her thighs around his waist, bending to kiss him and breathing in the spice of his aftershave. Misty was behind her, trailing soft kisses down her shoulderblade, murmuring sweet encouragements in her ear. Jackie’s hands gripped her ass roughly, spreading her wide open, and she wiggled her hips back into a position where he could begin to push into her._

_It hurt like fuck and it felt so damn good. Her teeth clenched and she exhaled sharply through her nose. Jackie reached up to run his fingers through her hair. “Relax, jaina,” he coaxed her._

_She obeyed without thinking, keeping herself slack and loose as he filled her completely. Her gaze was locked to his, her breathing deep and slow. He held her still, and it was bearable for a moment, but just one small twitch of his hips and she was on the verge of panic again, whiting out her mind, feeling him everywhere and too deep, he was too close to the core of her, she wasn’t safe--_

_“Shh,” said Misty’s warm, lilting voice by her ear. “I’m here, V. You’re doing so well…” The woman’s strong, nimble fingers caressed V’s ribcage, stroking the skin between her scars. V whimpered and tightened involuntarily, and the pain of it was followed by a deeper pulse of indescribable need. Misty’s nails dragged lightly over her breasts, circling her nipples teasingly. V felt the heat of the other woman press against her back, Misty’s chin coming to rest in the divot between V’s shoulder and neck._

_“Hurts,” V murmured, even though she wasn’t sure it did anymore--she’d forgotten what pain was supposed to feel like, her entire sensory capacity consumed by being filled._

_“Uh-huh.” Misty kissed the tender spot under her ear and cooed, “But you look so beautiful with a cock in you. Doesn’t she, Jackie?”_

_“Beautiful,” the man agreed, his voice rough and thick with desire. He pushed into her again, and V shut her eyes and bit her lip so she wouldn’t scream. Tears were prickling beneath her eyelids._

_“I--I can’t--” she gasped, but Jackie started to move in earnest, rolling his hips into hers like a wave, and her words were transmuted into a strangled cry. She couldn’t talk then, couldn't think, could barely breathe as every inch of her focus was drawn inexorably into her cunt. Her interior muscles fluttered uselessly against his cock, unable to tighten for more than an instant without pain--V remembered pain now, and how sharp and warm it was--but she was wet, too; she could hear herself squelching with each thrust, and now he was setting a rhythm and she was falling into it, but just when she learned the push and pull of it he changed the time and left her panting and whining again, not sure if she wanted this to be over or to last until the stars burned out._

_Misty’s fingers found her clit and everything got so much worse. V was caught in a loop of torment and ecstasy, and she gave up trying to ride the brutal waves, gave up everything resembling control as she groaned and flung her head back to rest on Misty’s shoulder. The other woman worked her clit in quick, sure circles, and pinched her nipples, or maybe it was the other way around but V felt something, everything, so much--_

_“Good girl,” growled a voice in her ear, and it wasn’t Misty. It was rougher, masculine--the scent of whiskey and smoke and sweat dripping under the hot red stage lights of a dive bar and the feel of guitar strings biting into her calloused fingers and an ache in her throat that never went away and the hand on her breast was cold and silver--_

_With a choked sob, she came._

“Endorphin and adrenaline levels are both elevated.”

“Within acceptable parameters. Adjust the dosage if the curve doesn’t flatten in the next two minutes.”

“With respect, ma’am--the Relic is integrated with the subject’s system to a frankly unprecedented degree. The endocrine system included. The release of these hormones may be an attempt of the construct to prepare the host for a fight-or-flight scenario, which--”

“With respect, Ingrid--I don’t give a damn. The construct is immaterial. The Relic’s effects on a host’s biology are well documented elsewhere. What interests me is the host’s engram. It should not have persevered past the subject’s death, by any known scientific process--not without extreme and irreversible decay of the subject’s neural aptitudes. And yet, here we are. Beyond any known science. If we can stabilize the host engram to the point that we can extract the Relic, we will have conquered death, Ingrid. Death, itself. A minor hormonal imbalance should be of no concern at this stage in the process. Keep your mind on the task at hand.”

“...of course, Dr. Emi.”


	32. J) Pistis Sophia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** bit of smut and some dehumanizing thoughts about a sex partner in the first few paragraphs.
> 
> -KB

### Johnny

The memory started out as a dream.

_He was balls-deep in some groupie slut, chasing his climax with the single-minded ferocity of a predator. Sweat covered his body, and his throat was raw and burning with liquor and bile. The room smelled like sex and something else, something he was supposed to remember. His vision titled and swam, dripping with with unknowable colors, thanks to some pills he’d popped earlier probably--he could barely see the ass of the chick he was fucking. Felt good and tight, though. She was making some preem noises, too--mouth and pussy._

_Christ, he was sore. Muscles ached and his head was pounding off-tempo. He couldn’t recall why--what he’d been doing--but about the only part of him not hurting was his dick. He doubled down on that sensation, thrusting harder and faster, pinning the girl between his lean frame and the ratty mattress. His hands gripped her ass cheeks and spread them wide, letting him get just that little bit deeper._

_“Johnny…”_

_He didn’t want to hear her talk. He especially didn’t want to be reminded of his own fucking name. With an ugly snarl, he shoved her face hard into the mattress and held her there, and the frantic way her cunt was milking him as she struggled to breathe drove him closer and closer to the edge._

_“I need you, Johnny.” The voice was weirdly clear--like it wasn’t even coming from the half-smothered girl on the bed--but Johnny was too close to care. He wrapped his arms around her body and yanked her upright, pressing his chest flush to her back and groping her tits as his hips pumped the final few strokes into her._

_“Good girl,” he growled in her ear, which was a weird thing for him to say, like he gave a fuck who she was or how she was doing, but she shuddered in response to his voice and made this hot little whining sound, and he came hard._

_No. That wasn’t how it happened._

_The rush of the orgasm stretched out too long, twisted and became something else. He was on the ratty mattress and his arms were empty, and he was empty, like the come had taken everything he had, hollowed him out inside. No sense of fulfillment or satisfaction in its wake, just--falling. Jumping out an AV without a parachute and falling so far for so long he’d pray for the ground to end it if he’d ever believed in anything worth praying to._

_“Why’re we here, Johnny?” V was leaning against the windowsill, looking over her shoulder at the sun setting on the Pacific. She had her arms folded and she was wearing his dog tags--wearing all his clothes, in fact, leather pants and everything. He wasn’t wearing anything, still soaked and sticky with sweat._

_God, he needed a smoke._

_“Dunno, kid,” he muttered, pushing the stringy, damp locks of hair out of his eyes with his ‘ganic hand. “Where’s here?”_

_“Don’t you recognize it? This is your place, after all.” The merc sounded bored. Or… sad? He knew her voice so well, but he couldn’t feel what she was feeling like usual and it left him lost, adrift in emotions he couldn’t parse or name. He remembered the smell of the room now, though. It was his own smell, ripe and rank after a month of doing nothing but lying on a mattress on the ground, staring up at a ceiling fan._

_“Hotel Pistis Sophia,” he said gruffly._

_“Good place to die,” V said, and she smiled, and now he was sure she was sad._

_The rocker snorted derisively. “Feelin’ sorry for me now, V? Waste of time.”_

_The scene shifted, and now he was the one standing by the window and she was curled up on the filthy bed, staring at something silver in her hand. Just the way it had been in reality. “Remember what you asked me here?”_

_‘Course he did. “Asked if we were deployed together, would you take a bullet for me. You said--”_

_“That it was a fuckin’ dumbass question. ‘Cuz it is.” The woman scowled._

_“Dumbass question with a simple answer, V. Yes or no.” Why couldn’t he remember now what she’d said then?_

_“Ain’t what you really wanted to ask me, though.”_

_“Just answer the fuckin’ question. Jesus.”_

_“Does it matter? Does what I say next change what you were gonna say anyway?”_

_“No.”_

_“Yes, Johnny. Of course I fuckin’ would.” They switched places again, and V smiled down at him in a faintly exasperated way, leaning her head against the window frame. “But that don’t signify. Doesn’t mean what you thought.”_

_Johnny groaned, pressing his fist into his temple. His head was throbbing like the motherfuckingest of all motherfucking hangovers had come due. “Christ, V--”_

_“Hey.” A light touch on his hand, and she was kneeling in front of him, meeting his gaze with calm, solemn regard. “Listen. They’re tryin’ to pull us apart. I can feel it.”_

_“Feels like dyin’,” he grumbled._

_“Yeah. They can’t find the seam ‘tween us to part neatly, so they’re cutting out where they think the join is. Losing pieces--”_

_“--like slicin’ the mold out of fruit,” he finished her sentence like he was the one who began it._

_Fuck._

_“‘Zactly. Only we’re both the mold, and both the fruit, and what they want isn’t really either of us but the seed of the tree that grew the fruit in the first place. Shit--Johnny, I’ve never seen a fruit tree.”_

_“I have,” he murmured dryly. “Long, long time ago.”_

_“Made an impression.” V was the one rubbing her forehead in pain now. “Branches spreadin’ towards the sky like… like veins.” Her voice was eerily quiet, like it was coming from far away even though she was right there._

_“V? Stay with me.”_

_“I’m tryin’, Johnny.” Her eyes were feverishly bright as she grabbed his shoulders with both hands. “You asked if I’d die for you, and I said yes. But that doesn’t mean the same thing to me as it does to you. There’s a lotta folks I’d die for. Some I love, some I like… but hell, I’d die for most strangers I see in the street too. That’s what my life is for--what I want it to be for. Protectin’ folks. Makin’ a difference. Be aces if I could live to enjoy the differences I make, but that ain’t the point of me.”_

_Johnny covered his face with his hand and muttered through his fingers, “Bullshit.”_

_She was making a kind of sense, though, and he knew it. Hated it. Hated her, sometimes. For how goddamn, infuriatingly, unfailingly, nonsensically decent she was. People like her weren’t supposed to exist. They were fairy tales, or phonies, and that was it. But she was real--he was in her fucking head and he knew she meant every stupid fucking word. V was real, and that meant Johnny was wrong about people._

_Johnny was finding he was wrong about a lot of things, these days._

_“Hey--stay with me,” she said, repeating his words or her own, he couldn’t remember anymore. “You don’t wanna hear about all the people I’d die for. You coulda guessed when you asked me back then what I’d say. I thought you were askin’ for a quick ego stroke--’oh Johnny, ‘course I’d die for ya, you mean so much to me,’” she said, fluttering her lashes before rolling her eyes. “Which is why it pissed me off so bad. But that wasn’t it at all, was it?”_

_His throat was as dry as a tomb. “No,” he said, his voice emanating from deep beneath the floor as his lips moved. The stained and graffiti-tagged walls were peeling back, rearranging themselves into weird, liminal origami shapes. No matter where Johnny looked he could see the Pacific Ocean._

_“You were askin’ ‘cuz… you wanted me to say no. Wanted things to be clear and clean between us: I stay, you go. Thought of me dyin’ for you was terrifying.”_

_“I am so fuckin’ scared, all the damn time,” both of them said in perfect unison. V continued, “But it ain’t that neat and it never was. Either of us goes, we take a piece with us that the other’ll never get back. Neither of us can die a hero, selflessly saving the other, no matter how bad we might want to.”_

_“You don’t wanna die.” Johnny knew that much for certain._

_“True. But I ain’t real thrilled to live without you,” V said, simple and sincere. “I’m not the same person who got shot in the head six months ago. You’re not the same bastard who once leveled half the city. We’re both less than we were and more than we ever could have been. Nothin’ normal or natural about any of this, but who fuckin’ cares?” She shrugged casually. “Bein’ alone in my head scares me worse than dyin’, these days.”_

_“Everyone’s alone in the end, V. Every damn one of us.”_

_“Not you and me. ‘Least, we don’t have to be. Now they’re tryin’ to take you away from me--”_

_“--they’re tryin’ to save your life--”_

_“--don’t let ‘em.” The stubborn way her chin tipped and her eyes narrowed… fuck, how many times had he seen that look in the mirror and wanted to punch his way through to strangle the smirking douche on the other side of the glass._

_“I don’t have a choice--bullshit!” He interrupted himself at the same time her voice chorused with his on the cuss._

_“Might be all your choices are shit, but you’ve never been one to make no choice when a bad one was available, Johnny.”_

_He let out a bark of surprised laughter, shaking his head. “Fuck, can’t argue that.”_

_“You can’t argue anythin’ I say. Know you better than even you do, Silverhand.”_

_“That so?” His gaze searched hers--playfully at first, and then deeper. The room was gone and the mattress was on the sand of a dirty, litter-strewn beach and the sun had set and the stars were coming out. They used to shine brighter, a long time ago. Johnny took V’s hands from his shoulders and held them in his. “So you’re sayin’ it doesn’t mean shit that we’d die for each other.”_

_“Yep. Not a single damn thing. I’d die for anyone, and you dyin’ for me would hurt me more’n help, so it’d only satisfy you. Self-gratification. Practically jackin’ off, really.”_

_“Bleak,” the rockerboy mused, but he was smiling. An actual, genuine smile, nothing mocking or ironic about it. He’d only smiled at her like that once before--at the oilfields where his body was buried. He remembered her memory of it, and he hardly recognized himself through her eyes. “What should I have asked you, then? At the real Pistis Sophia.”_

_“What you wanted to. Ask me now.”_

_Waves were crashing into the sand and stirring the sheets, soaking into the mattress. Soon enough the tide would swallow them all._

_“Will you live for me, V? Live like you mean it, make it mean what you want. If I go--”_

_“--if I go--”_

_“--promise you won’t forget me.”_

“The operation was a success.”


	33. V) Severed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I ended up cutting out an entire chapter between this one and yesterday's, because it was basically just an exposition dump. I tried to incorporate the crucial details into this chapter and the next, but please let me know if anything here doesn't make sense! I may have accidently left out something salient. Those DEVIL ENDING SPOILERS I mentioned a while back are in here, just FYI.
> 
> Also, I've had a busy week and haven't been able to engage with the comment section as much as I'd like, but I'm reading them and I want to thank all of you again for sharing your sadness/joy/rage/horniness/etc. with me! I am delighted that you have permitted me to inflict feelings upon you (is there a less creepy way to say that? probably! will I try to find it? no I will not!).
> 
> **Content warnings:** discussion of Evelyn Parker's fate: sexual assault, abuse, suicide.
> 
> -KB

### V

The air hypo jammed into the side of her neck did wonders for V’s state of consciousness. Her eyes snapped open and she jerked forward, slamming against the restraints that held her to the table.

“Be calm.” A man’s voice, one she recognized but couldn’t place until he entered her limited field of vision from the side.

_Yorinobu fuckin’ Arasaka. Damn._

V grunted inarticulately, her head swimming and heart racing as whatever booster had been in the hypo went to war with the sedatives and neuroleptics already in her system. This was not gonna be a fun ride.

“You should regain control of your fine motor functions shortly. I caution you against using them to do anything stupid.” The Arasaka heir stood nearby the table, a step beyond her farthest possible reach. The room was lit only by the screens of the medical equipment, and empty of anyone but the two of them. He was aiming a gun at her. It looked familiar.

He noticed the focus of her gaze, a note of grim amusement entering his tone. “An exact replica of my personal sidearm, which went missing from my penthouse the same night the Relic was stolen. I almost considered hunting you down for the gun alone. I was fond of it.”

“Still got it,” V whispered hoarsely. Her tongue felt thick and clumsy in her mouth. “Nice piece.”

“It is. If our business here concludes satisfactorily, I would be amenable to paying you for its return. For sentimental reasons.” He did not strike V as a sentimental man. That incongruity was pushed to the back of her mind as her drugged wits caught up to the other implications of Yorinobu’s statement.

“Sayin’... you can get me out of here?” she asked slowly, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I am saying that it would be best for both of our interests if you left here as quickly as possible. Of your own volition.”

V let out a dry laugh that was more of a hacking cough. “Volition I got in spades. Opportunity’s what’s lackin’.”

“I am providing you with the opportunity now.” His dark eyes blazed blue, and V’s optic feed was overrun by a stream of data. She couldn’t parse it; the symbols melted and squiggled into nonsense as she stared at them.

“S’posed to know what this shit is?” she murmured groggily.

“Maps. Key codes. Patrol routes. Everything a little lab rat might use to escape from their maze. Encrypted, of course, until our agreement is finalized.”

V groaned. Her heart rate was easing down to normal levels, but she was becoming aware of a sharp, insistent pain at the back of her skull. “What’s the gig? Reckon you won’t have a problem affordin’ my rates, Mr. Arasaka.”

“Sarcasm is an inefficient choice at this stage.”

“Yeah but it’s a fuckin’ fun one.” V coughed again, immediately making the pounding ache in her head about ten times worse. “Jesus Christ. What the fuck did you do to me?”

“I, personally, did nothing but administer a cocktail of stimulants that should enable you to perform the strenuous physical tasks ahead of you, despite your condition.”

“Uh-huh,” V said flatly. “And my condition is…?”

“Recovering from a very, very experimental form of neurosurgery combined with genetic and endocrine therapy. It may have saved your life.”

“Hurray me,” V muttered, and she sounded so bitter that she almost thought Johnny said it. Then with a sick lurch of her stomach, she realized that Johnny wasn’t saying anything. And given the circumstances, he should have had a fucking lot to say.

_‘Johnny?’_ she asked in her mind. No response. She reached out for him--some feeling or sense of his presence, or even the thick, foggy silence that swamped his part of the brain when she took the omega-3 blockers. Nothing.

“What the fuck--” she growled, her voice cracking apart as she tried to hold it together, “What did they do? Where is Silverhand?”

Yorinobu lowered his pistol, regarding the merc’s furious expression with a kind of curiosity. “What’s he like?” he asked, instead of answering her question.

V could barely dignify that with a snort of disdain. “Asshole. Worst terrorist I ever met. Still like him better than your entire fuckin’ corp. Why do you care? You a Samurai fan or some shit?” she sneered.

“A… fan. I suppose. An admirer, certainly. Silverhand was… an inspiration to many.” His tone was opaque and cautious, but V picked up on his meaning. 

“You’re… not talkin’ about the music.” She felt cold under the sweat collecting on her skin.

“I am not.”

V’s brain whirled with the enormity of those implications. “You--” she tried to say and then stopped, licking her chapped lips. “You’re… everythin’ you’re doin’ with the corp, droppin’ research projects and closin’ factories and firin’ up old grudge matches with Militech… you’re startin’ a war. One you don’t mean to win.”

“You’ve been paying closer attention to me than I would have guessed, mercenary.” The man’s glasses reflected the lights of the life sign monitors hooked up to V in the dim room.

“Wanted to stay a step ahead, thought you’d be gunnin’ for me. Since, y’know, I stole your Relic and saw what you did to your old man.”

Yorinobu’s jawline hardened. “I did what was necessary. My father’s ambition would have swallowed the world.” Impassive as his voice was, there was pain beneath it, buried deeper than light could travel.

“Ain’t judgin’. Everybody does what lets ‘em sleep at night,” V said. She felt so fucking tired all of a sudden--had the stims worn off already? She tried to lift her arm and couldn’t, but she could curl her hand into a fist. That was… something. “So you need me gone. Why?”

“My subordinate, Dr. Emi, has a theory. A person’s neural engram is hard-coded in the brain the same way a digital engram is written into a chip. Previously, digitizing the mind was thought to be the only way to ensure its survival past death, but your revival proves that an organic engram exists in the brain postmortem, long enough to be repaired by the Relic’s nanites. You were shot in the head point blank, I believe? You died, the Relic brought you back to life, and then immediately began killing you by overwriting you with a new engram. But if that second phase is now superfluous, and Emi’s experiments bear fruit--then immortality is just a matter of slotting a chip loaded with nanites before you die. Expensive, but accessible to anyone who can afford it.”

V shivered as comprehension set in. “Arasaka becomes the sole supplier of a goddamn superpower. Money and adulation rolls in. You can’t lose the war no matter how bad you want to.”

“Indeed. The sooner you and all traces of the Relic are gone from this facility, the better. And the more damage you do on the way out, the easier it will be for me to justify to my shareholders and board members that we should not pursue this research any further.”

“Why’d you let Emi fuckin’ loose in the first place?” V groused. “Coulda saved a heap of trouble. Lives, too.” She was thinking about what Johnny and River had told her of the disaster at the asylum. Not that she mourned for anyone who worked there, but Arasaka had fired on escaping prisoners too. She didn’t know how many had died.

“Lives are not my concern.” Yorinobu’s gaze was intense and unnerving. “Do you know how many the company employs? Nearly six hundred thousand in the United States alone. Globally, and including our subsidiaries, the number jumps into the millions. All of those people will lose their income and stability, and many of them their lives as well, in this war. I will rip down everything my father built, to the last stone. At any cost.” The utter commitment in his voice was frightening. 

“Emi was part of the team that created the original Relic, and she worked on the unique prototype currently embedded in your skull as well. That prototype was created for only one purpose--to grant Saburo Arasaka eternal life. Dr. Emi had loftier aims in mind. More lives to save than a single, decrepit tyrant. My father had her removed from the project when it became clear her efforts were not fully bent to satisfying his every whim. But the doctor couldn’t let go so easily.”

“She became obsessed with the Relic, hunting you down on her own initiative after its theft. I indulged her because she served me well in her unwitting role as a loose cannon, recklessly destroying property and damaging the corporation’s image by brandishing our name like a weapon in her single-minded quest. But I cannot allow her goal to be achieved, now that it is within her grasp. Which is why you must leave, and she must be disposed of.”

“Am I the garbageman in this scenario?” V grumbled.

“Her location is included in the maps I gave you. Do with the information as you choose.”

“Say I choose to slip out quietly. No muss, no fuss.” That wasn’t what she wanted, but she didn’t feel inclined to do this asshole any favors either. Hating the same thing she hated didn’t make them friends. She and Johnny would’ve learned to get along a lot faster if things worked that way.

_Johnny…_

“It is your choice. But consider what she has cost you,” Yorinobu was saying. “And what she may yet cost you, if her fanatic pursuit of the Relic is not put to a permanent end. She has some form of leverage over you, I believe?”

V started at that. Her muscles were tensing, flexing--she was regaining control. “Where is he?” 

“Two floors beneath this one there is a facility for the cryo storage of biological samples. Marked on the map. I would begin your search there.” 

The lethargy of a few minutes ago was fading quickly, replaced by a kind of bone-deep terror and the need to _move._ “Cryo? She didn’t--”

“It would have been uncharacteristic of her to dispose of an asset she still had use for. I would be surprised if he’s dead--but I make no guarantees. Dr. Emi has proven… unpredictable, at times.”

V threw herself against the restraints again, and this time they snapped--fiber shredded and metal bent by the force of her cyber-enhanced musculature. Yorinobu took several quick steps towards the door to maintain the distance between them, raising his gun again. He needn’t have bothered; V stumbled immediately and fell to her hands and knees. The room was swerving and everything hurt.

_Fuck this._

“What she cost me,” she breathed raggedly. “What do you mean?”

“You seem fond of Silverhand. Are you aware that the two of you have been… severed?”

_Severed._

V felt the word as much as she heard it, the empty chasm in her brain aching like a wound. “Wh--how?” she gasped out, unable to form an intelligible question that would encompass everything she wanted to know. What had happened, and how, and why, and whether she could do anything about it now.

“As far as Emi explained it to me--your neural architecture was being rejected and attacked by your body’s immune system, while at the same time the biochip was implanting the architecture that would support Silverhand’s engram. The doctor was partially successful in using nanites to regenerate some of your degraded architecture, but your immune system would simply have destroyed it again as a foreign invader. So she essentially tricked your body into accepting you by grafting your regrown natural architecture onto what the biochip created, using gene therapy and artificial hormones to stimulate the synchronized production of neurotransmitters until the two systems of architecture were integrated.”

V’s apparently very complicated head was spinning. She was trying to picture it but the wild mixing of metaphors was not helping. “Tiny robots regrew my brain like a building next to Silverhand’s other, bigger building, and then they fed me drugs until the two buildings merged and turned into a single tree?”

“Yes. Essentially.” The man shrugged. “I’m no scientist.”

_No fuckin’ shit._ “...okay. But none of that tells me what happened to Silverhand.”

“The human brain contains… staggering amounts of data. Emi stabilized the conflict within you between two enormous datasets attempting to occupy the same space by sacrificing a portion of that data.”

V finally managed to haul herself up to a standing position, swaying as she glared at the man across the room. “Spit it out, motherfucker.”

“The surgery was something of a partial lobotomy. More so for him than for you, since his engram was the predominant one at the time.”

“ _What_?!”

Yorinobu sounded genuinely regretful. “It is a shame. I did hope I’d have the chance to meet him, one day.”

“He’s--he can’t be--”

“I would have stopped Emi if I had known what she was attempting sooner. But she knew that, and she intentionally delayed informing me until the deed was already done.”

“But the chip--isn’t he, I dunno, backed up on there or something?!” V asked, hating how weak her desperation made her sound.

“Emi repurposed the network his neural architecture had formed with the body and excised what she considered extraneous data in order to make room for your fledgeling neural growth. It’s unlikely there’s much left. If some fragment of him does remain on the Relic, Emi intends to purge it once she removes it from your head in order to replicate the device. The removal, incidentally, will likely leave you impaired or comatose, in case you needed another reason to get out of here.”

“Thought you said the surgery saved my life?”

“It did. You’ll be a perfectly healthy coma patient until the day they pull your plug. Your body won’t be trying to kill your brain anymore, but your brain was rebuilt on the foundation of the Relic and you’ll have limited, if any, function without it.” Yorinobu was clearly growing impatient. “If you have any further questions about what the doctor did to you, I suggest you ask her yourself--and then, ideally, kill her.” The man started towards the door, as if that was all there was to say.

“Evelyn Parker is dead.” V wasn’t sure why she blurted it out, until she saw Yorinobu freeze in his tracks. 

“How do you know that name?” the heir asked, an edge of caution in his voice.

Strangely gratified by his reaction, V pressed on. “She’s the one who hired me for the Konpeki job.” The momentary expression of shock on Yorinobu’s face was even more satisfying. “Yeah. Not Militech or Biotechnica or any other skeazy corpo or politician you’ve ever crossed. Little bedroom plaything like her planned the heist of the century.” V grinned, remembering the way Evelyn had smirked when she described herself that way. There was power in being underestimated.

Yorinobu’s jaw twitched, like he was trying to hide either a smile or a scowl. “I should have known.”

“You really should’ve,” V agreed. “But don’t feel too bad for bein’ fooled. Hell of an actress, that woman, in addition to her brilliant criminal mind. She did genuinely like you, though, I think.” She was remembering the small, secret smile that stole onto Evelyn’s lips when she described her long-standing arrangement with Yorinobu. _“Suits us both,”_ she’d said softly.

“I…” For the first time that night, the corpo heir seemed to be at a loss for words. “I was fond of her as well,” he finally admitted. “She knew what she wanted, and she was… unafraid to take it. I found her audacity… refreshing, I suppose. In the sea of sycophants I swim in every day… Evelyn was a lifeline.” His gaze went distant for a moment and he seemed to forget that V was in the room. Until he asked, “How did she die?”

V’s warm memories faded, replaced by sharper, harder ones. “Killed herself.” _Pale cold skin, blood in the bathtub, the stains wouldn’t scrub away…_

“That sounds... most unlike her.”

“Hn,” V grunted. “Well. You’d be surprised with what people can’t live through.”

“What do you mean?”

“Shouldn’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to, rich man.” V let go of her grasp on the table, able to stand on her own at last. Her mind was growing clearer and her body stronger by the minute.

“Tell me,” Yorinobu ordered in a low growl, and V’s respect for the man rose ever so slightly.

“Fine. After I got flatlined, was incommunicado for a couple weeks. Which meant the Relic was missin’ too, which meant the job was a bust. Netrunner fried Evelyn’s circuits to keep her quiet about their part in the fiasco. Worked pretty damn well, too--put her in a kind of coma, still awake and aware but couldn’t move or speak. Unfuckingfortunately, she was at work at Clouds at the time. Meanin’ her shithead boss decided her limp body was at his disposal.”

Yorinobu’s eyebrows drew together harshly. “The manager, Woodman--”

“Dead now. Killed him myself, after Evelyn died.” _Far too fuckin’ late, but better than never._ “Her chrome was expensive and he wanted to recoup his investment. After he got bored with rapin’ her, pawned her off to a shady ripperdoc, who sold her to scavs for parts.” Something in V’s chest ached painfully as she spoke, and she didn’t think it had anything to do with drugs or surgery. 

“‘Course those motherfuckers couldn’t be bothered to end it cleanly. Used her to scroll XBDs instead. Bunch of ‘em. Check the black market in a few months; she’ll be trendin’,” V said bitterly. She had scourged everything she could from the gang’s database when she went to recover Evelyn, but copies of a few recordings had already been transferred offsite. Beyond her reach. “They’re dead now too. Me and a friend went to their shitty little snuff studio and cleaned house. Got Evelyn home, but…” V ran a hand through her hair and felt a tug on the inside of her elbow from the IV tube taped there. She yanked it out without flinching. “Was in bad shape. Started to get better, with some care. Soon as she could move on her own again--bathtub and a razorblade.”

She hated what Evelyn had done, hated seeing what her death had done to Judy, who had loved her. V hated it--but she understood it. She knew, better than almost anyone else could’ve, what Evelyn had been through. The sick weight of helplessness, of a future split between memories and nightmares when both were torture… no wonder the woman had sought an escape hatch. A way to stop feeling, when she couldn’t imagine ever feeling anything again but pain. 

The only thing that had stopped V from reaching for a similar exit in the past was her overwhelming sense of guilt. Like she deserved to be tormented for what she had done, and killing herself would be cheating her victims out of some kind of justice. It was fucked up, but it had kept her alive long enough for her to meet the people who had helped her start to heal. _Jackie, Misty, Vik, River… Johnny._ She didn’t know if she could have helped Evelyn… but she wished she’d had a chance to try. To at least show the brilliant, bold, complicated woman that she wasn’t alone in the dark.

“She’s got a niche at the columbarium. ‘Case you ever feel like payin’ your respects.” V cracked her neck from side to side. “Shame you two could never let your guards down enough to trust each other. As a team, you would’ve been… formidable.”

The ghost of a wry, sad smile crossed Yorinobu’s face. “Indeed.” That was all the emotion he allowed himself to display. He had to be a pretty good actor himself, to have spent decades operating at the top of the hierarchy in a company he wanted nothing more than to destroy utterly. If he was sickened by Evelyn’s fate, if he mourned for her, as V did… he kept it private and hidden well.

He turned to go, and V spoke up. “One more thing.”

“There is no time,” Yorinobu said, irritation written in his voice and posture. “My involvement in your escape cannot become known, and the blackout I’ve caused to conceal my presence will end shortly.”

With sudden, silent ferocity, V launched herself forward, slamming Yorinobu into the wall and pinning him there by his neck. The barrel of his gun dug into her ribs, but he hadn’t fired. Would’ve already been too late for him if she’d wanted to kill him, anyway.

“One more thing,” she repeated, her voice low and full of deadly promise. “Tell me how to find Mikoshi.”


	34. V+R) Chippin' In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to the song stuck in V's head is [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Igq3d6XA75Y) For additional cyberpunk lab escape v i b e s, may I suggest watching the music video for [Last One Standing by Icon For Hire.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJfieRTqXQo) Had it on repeat while I wrote this. If I posted a "soundtrack"/list of songs that inspired the story after the final chapter, would that be interesting to folks?
> 
> -KB

### V

V had to take out the first patrol with nothing but her quickhacks and a scalpel she’d klepped from the operating room, but after that she had a gun. She stripped the bodies efficiently, clothing herself in their black uniforms and pieces of body armor. The fit wasn’t great but it was a whole lot better than running around with her ass hanging out of the flimsy hospital gown she’d previously worn. She left that garment on the ground beside her fallen enemies, white paper swiftly absorbing a puddle of red.

“ _Seed is sown, I’m chippin’ in; roll the bones, I’m chippin’ in..._ ” The song was stuck in her head, and she hummed as she strode down the hallways. Not the cover Kerry Eurodyne had rewritten and made famous--the original Samurai version. Had she always known those lyrics, or…?

A surveillance camera high on the wall moved, and she ducked around a corner before it caught her. The really fucking nice thing about storming an Arasaka base, she reflected, was that absolutely everyone who worked here was chipped. Security forces, scientists, secretaries--hell, even the goddamn janitors. Her cyberdeck let her ping the internal servers and get back an approximate location for every employee within a few hundred meters. She could use the intel to easily avoid the patrols; she didn’t have to run into anyone if she didn’t want to.

She kinda wanted to.

“ _Suits run when I come undone; can’t kill me, I’m zero and one._ ” Her finger tapped the beat against the trigger guard of the standard-issue assault rifle she carried. There was a knife in a sheath on her belt, and a pistol tucked into a concealed holster at the small of her back. One of the guards she’d relieved of his possessions had carried a bandolier stocked with non-lethal grenades, so that was slung over her shoulder for now. It was heavy and V would probably need to drop it if a real firefight broke out, but it was nice to have.

For example--a quick glance through a glass-paneled door revealed a couple of researchers crouched over microscopes. V’s practiced gaze scanned her options and selected two of the grenades. Pulling the pins with her teeth, she hit the button to open the door and rolled both munitions across the floor gently. One bumped into the shoe of a lab worker and immediately began hissing out a white cloud of choking gas, while the other collided with the base of a computer station and burst into a ball of static and lightning, frying the circuits of every device in the room. The lights went out and V overloaded the door panel so it would stay shut, before proceeding on her way.

“ _Add justice to the peoples’ math; blaze your way down the rebel path._ ”

She had encountered and dispatched two more patrols and started a fire in another lab before red emergency lighting flickered on and alarms began to sound. All around her, the electronic pulses that indicated the presence of chipped persons began moving quickly, sharply veering from their original courses to either confront the crisis (her) or run from it.

_Took ‘em long enough._

In some ways, the scenario reminded her of Konpeki Plaza. She and Jackie had been overwhelmed there, unarmed, facing endless hordes of Arasaka agents in unfamiliar hallways. Stealth had been their only hope. V remembered how it felt to cling to shadows, crouching in a security cam’s blindspot and hearing Jackie’s labored breaths and muttered prayers as his guts filled with blood, waiting for a guard to look the wrong way for just a split second--

But however similar the circumstances, things were different now. _She_ was different now. Not a frightened little thief or a merc scheming for glory. She had something to fight for; something she had to protect. She’d lost Jackie then, and now Johnny too.

V was going to scorch this wretched place and every soul inside to ash before she’d let them take River from her.

“ _Hear my call, I’m chippin’ in; total war, I’m chippin’ in_ \--”

A tight grouping of bullets from her rifle tore through the chest of another security officer. He fell to the floor, writhing and gasping and definitely dying. V watched and thought dimly how strange it was that she felt nothing. No compassion. No guilt. _Maybe they cut that part of me out along with Johnny._ She stepped over the man and picked up his rifle from where he’d dropped it. Hers was empty.

“ _Casings fall, I’m chippin’ in._ ”

Finally she reached the entrance to cryo storage, pausing in the hallway out of sight of the door. Judging by the pings she was getting, an entire squad was waiting for her inside. That boded well for Yorinobu’s theory that this was where they were keeping River. The omens for the people in her way were less favorable.

“ _Can you feel it, can you touch it_?” V sang under her breath, pressing her hand to the wall that separated her from the troops. She shut her eyes and sank deep into the currents of data that rushed all around her, connecting her to everything that buzzed or sparked. “ _Get ready ‘cuz here we go_ …”

Some of the security guards were carrying smart grenades. V’s cyberdeck took her into the simple electronic brains of the incendiary devices, and she told them the pins had been pulled. Explosions, chaos. V worked her way into the more complex cyberware systems of the remaining humans, triggering breaks in essential lines of code that caused neurons to misfire and wires to sizzle. Some got sick, others started firing wildly, hitting friends and infrastructure alike. After things had quieted down, V opened the door and stepped through.

The floor was a carpet of bodies leaking blood and vomit and machine oil. Huge refrigeration units lined the walls, spilling mist and coolant through bullet-shattered glass. V didn’t look too closely at the samples contained within; most of them resembled organs or chunks of meat and skin. No full-size humans, so she plunged deeper into the chamber of horrors, stalking down the long corridors of freezers.

She found what she was looking for at the back. A wall covered in measurements and instrumentation that all seemed to support six dark glass panels the size of coffins. V skimmed the labels beside each panel until she recognized biometrics that could be River’s, and rested her hand on the switch to illuminate the coffin in cold blue fluorescents.

It was him. His eyes were shut and his brown skin was patched with white frost, but according to the readout on the screen next to him, he was alive. V felt something inside her cave with relief as she punched in the code to reverse the cryo stasis. It would take a few minutes.

“You’re a lucky woman.”

V whirled to find a white-haired Japanese lady pointing a gun at her. The merc cursed silently, trying to figure out what happened. She’d been distracted enough that it made sense she hadn’t heard someone sneaking up, but her spatial awareness of nearby electronics should have alerted her, unless--did this chick not have _any_ chrome? A quick scan confirmed it. Even the pistol she held was pure old-fashioned mechanics, nothing for V to hack.

_Fuck._

“How do you figure?” V growled, folding her arms. “There a lot of folks vying for my spot in your goddamn lobotomy chair?” Brief, drug-hazed past glimpses of the woman’s face were drifting to her mind. This was Dr. Emi.

“I’m referring to your relationship with the young man. The commitment you’ve demonstrated to reach him today reflects his determination and resourcefulness when he came after you at the asylum. An equal partnership of extraordinary individuals is a rare and precious thing. Most will never be fortunate enough to experience something like it.” The older woman’s voice was detached, like she was providing an impartial analysis. Her gaze flicked away from V for just a moment, taking in the dormant cryo pods.

 _Interesting_ , the merc thought. 

“Yeah,” she said simply. “We’re both lucky we found each other before either of us did somethin’ so stupid and heroic we died of it. Kinda like to keep that record goin’, so if you wouldn’t mind lowerin’ the gun--” She took a step forward, and Emi’s aim shifted to River’s head.

“Stay there,” the scientist said. She held her weapon as steady as a surgical instrument.

V backed up and raised her hands slightly to show she understood. “‘Kay. But you know the second you fire at him, you’re dead. I’m a lot faster, stronger, and better at killin' than you. So what kinda play do you think you’re makin’ here, Doc?”

“The pod at the end of the row is empty. Get in.” 

V glanced over her shoulder at the wall of glass coffins, then back at Emi. “Don’t think I will.”

“Get in, or I shoot your friend in the head, and then you’ll kill me, but it won’t matter because he’ll be dead and you won’t be able to bring him back.” The doctor’s voice was the coldest thing in the damn room of refrigerators.

V’s hands clenched into fists. “This chip I got so important to you? Willin’ to bet your life on the slim fuckin’ chance that I’d rather be a damn vegetable than lose him?”

“I don’t believe the chance is all that slim, in fact. And even if it were--yes.” _There._ Dr. Emi definitely looked at one of the other pods, for a brief instant. “The Relic project is more important to me than my own life. So I suggest you get in the pod. Immediately.”

 _Fuckin’ better be right about this._ V approached the indicated glass door and touched the panel that would activate it. She pretended to fumble with the controls, while her focus slipped beneath the slick black veneer, following the surges of electricity back to their source. A tangled web of wires and chrome held the whole cryogenic system together, sucking vast amounts of power from some underground grid. There had to be a fail-safe switch somewhere--and there was.

The glass retracted, and V stepped up into her designated coffin. _River’s not out from under yet. Gotta stall long as I can._ “Why you’d bother savin’ my life, anyway? Why not rip the damn thing outta my head when I first got here and have done?”

“Your integration with the Relic is unique. I couldn’t be sure that what happened to you--a true resurrection--could be replicated, without examining you for myself. Once I determined there was nothing inherently special about you biologically, reversing your mental decay and reestablishing your engram’s link to your body was a matter of putting my theories into practice. To prove that, even in an advanced case of neural degradation such as yours, nothing is truly lost unless we let it be. The self is a construct of gray matter and bioelectricity, and these things can be replicated and repaired. Death is merely an… interruption of the natural communication between the self and the body, and not the total evaporation of the self into some unknowable ether.” The woman kept her sights trained on River as she approached the wall to use a panel.

“Guessin’ you ain’t got much use for religion,” V muttered, nervous anticipation racing through her veins.

“No one does but fools and demagogues,” Emi said scornfully. Her fingers danced over the buttons of the control panel, and V heard the machinery that would freeze her solid grinding to life. “They call the AI that creates digitized engrams ‘Soulkiller.’ As if to acknowledge that data on its own is not enough, that something is lost when one attempts to download a human mind. But the engrams behave enough like the people they imitate that the tech-obsessed simply declare victory, without even considering that there may be another option. Neither an organic body with an artificial soul, like you were meant to become, or an artificial body with an organic mind, like those who undergo full-body conversion. My intention is to use technology to augment and support what humanity naturally possesses, and thereby remove the arbitrary limits of death and decay placed on us by nature.”

“Sounds real noble an’ shit when you put it like that. Almost makes me forget how you fuckin’ lobotomized me and killed Johnny,” V spat.

“Killed? The JS engram was never alive.”

“If that’s meant to be a justification for murder, it’s a piss-poor one.”

Dr. Emi paused, her hand hovering over the computer panel. A strange, fierce smile overtook her previously implacable expression. “I have no need to justify my actions to you. But if you don’t believe that sacrificing the engram was necessary for scientific progress and the betterment of humankind, then you may feel free to consider it a matter of vengeance.”

That startled V, and it must have shown on her face, because the doctor’s awful smile widened. “What’d Johnny do to you?” V asked quietly.

“The same as he did to millions of others in this city, fifty years ago. He changed the world.” Emi’s tone was pure, vitriolic bitterness and hate. She pressed the button, and the glass door began to close. V was out of time.

 _Here goes._ Her cyberlink to the cryo controls flooded her senses as she threw the fail-safe switch and blazed a path down every circuit, setting alarms wailing and screens frizzing with static. The doors of all the pods slid slowly open, and V heard a groan as River tumbled out of his. _Alive._ The sequence she’d initiated to raise his temperature and gradually pull him out of cryosleep had gone off without a hitch. The other denizens of the pods weren’t so lucky.

The alarm’s high frequency was nearly matched by a cry from Dr. Emi as she darted for one of the glass coffins. A man’s body was slumped inside, and the doctor struggled to secure his position while frantically pounding commands into a control panel that would absolutely not respond. V climbed out of her own prison and went straight to River.

“You okay?” she murmured, crouching beside the big man and slipping an arm under his shoulder to support him. He managed to nod at her, between dry heaves and shudders that wracked his entire frame. She helped him most of the way to standing, leaving him braced on his elbow against a console while she went to deal with Emi.

The doctor was distraught, all trace of her previous cool composure fled. V got a better look at the man she was trying to save--Asian, handsome, late thirties maybe. He seemed too thin and pale even for a cryogenic patient, suggesting a prior illness. The monitor displaying his life signs was vacillating wildly as the sensors it relied on were on the fritz, but V didn’t need the monitor to see that the man was dying. Being forcibly ripped out of cryo was a traumatic shock to the system that human biology simply wasn’t equipped to process--especially if that human were weak and sick in the first place.

Sure enough, the heart rate flatlined, and a high, whining pitch joined the general cacophony. Emi whirled on V, her eyes wide and wild--but her hands were empty. She’d dropped the gun to embrace the man. V almost felt sorry for her, for a second, before the woman screamed and leapt on her like an animal.

They wrestled on the floor for a moment, and V felt Emi’s fingers scrabbling desperately at the neural port where the Relic was slotted. She reacted fast, with more force than she meant to, and she heard the snap of bone as she pinned the old lady harshly to the ground. The doctor’s collarbone had separated, pried apart between V’s augmented hands, and Emi howled, blinded by tears of pain and rage. The merc drew back her fist, ready to plant it deep in Emi’s skull via her teeth, when something caught her wrist and she looked up.

River looked down at her. He was swaying unsteadily and seemed barely able to speak, but he said her name. “V…”

She heard what he didn’t say just as clearly. _Stop. This isn’t you._ But what the fuck did he know about who she was, when even she didn’t know anymore? All she had was what the cringing piece of human scum beneath her had left her with--her life, and her rage. Rage that filled her when nothing else would, that animated her body when her limbs felt like stone. River let go of her wrist, and she hesitated, but she didn’t waver. _This bitch needs to die._

A gunshot cracked, and Emi’s brains splattered out of one of her ears. V jerked her gaze up to meet River’s. He was holding the doctor’s discarded pistol, and he looked so damn tired. “Let’s go home, V. Please.”

### River

River was colder than he’d ever been in his life, and he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. About sixty percent of his awareness was dedicated to pain, as the numbness of cryo seeped away into a brutal, full-body ache. _Motorcycle wipeout_ , he recalled suddenly. How long ago had that been? He remembered the crash, and the pain, and the Arasaka drones, and then… nothing. If he’d been in cryogenic suspension since then, his injuries wouldn’t have healed at a normal rate, meaning he could have been under for… weeks? Months even?

But V was there, and he couldn’t help but think that if it had been that long, she would have looked happier to see him. As it was, the hurt and anger left over from their last conversation seemed almost as fresh for her as it was for him. The merc’s eyes flashed as she got to her feet, and she looked so much like Silverhand at that moment, it was frightening. 

“Should’ve let me finish it.” Her voice was hoarse and low with barely-restrained fury. 

River’s shoulders sagged like they were too much weight to carry. “Told me once, that’s not who you wanna be. Judge, jury, and executioner. No matter how bad they deserve it.”

V laughed bitterly. Same way Silverhand did. “So you’re takin’ that role on in my place? Keepin' me from gettin' my hands dirty? How fuckin’ patronizing can you get?!”

River’s temper was rising in response to hers, and he hated how little control he had over it. “I just wanna get out of here without either of us losin’ our shit or our souls, V! _Please._ Yeah, I shouldn’t take away your choices even if they’re gonk, I’m overprotective sometimes ‘cuz I’m scared of what losin’ you would do to me, and I’m selfish for cuttin’ you off from things that hurt me ‘cuz I don’t wanna see you get hurt by ‘em. All that's true, and I’m a fuckin’ mess, and I’m tryin’ to be better--but y’know what, V, it wouldn’t kill ya to just _let me fuckin’ help you_ every now and then either.”

“Maybe not, but you ain’t askin’ if you can help! You’re just… swoopin’ in and layin’ down the law and that’s that, like some goddamn wannabe messiah!” V snapped, scowling and folding her arms. “I don’t fuckin’ need your sineater bullshit. Can take care of myself.”

River choked on a noise that was half growl of disgust, half exasperated laugh. “I _know_ you don’t need me, V. But Jesus Christ, is it so hard to admit that you _want_ me? That you understand me tryin’ to save you is about my own issues, and not ‘cuz I think you’re weak? That some part of you even likes that someone cares so much about you, he’d do anything to spare you pain--even if it’s stupid and pisses you off?”

V deflated somewhat, looking away. “...Johnny said somethin’ like that,” she murmured after a few moments of thought. “‘Bout sparin’ me pain even though it drives me nuts.”

“Might be the only thing he and I ever agree on,” River said.

For some reason, V flinched. “...he’s gone, River,” she said quietly.

River stared at her. “What?”

V shook her head, her voice thick with emotion. “She--” the merc jabbed a finger at the corpse on the floor. “She took him from me. Tore him apart. Rebuilt me, using pieces of him.”

“Oh, _V_ …” River didn’t know what else to say. He’d never liked the guy and probably the world as a whole was better off without the rockerboy in it… but V sure as hell wasn’t. He watched her scrub at her eyes with the heel of her hand.

“Doesn’t matter now. She’s dead, and I’m gonna make sure everything she and Arasaka built around the goddamn Relic dies with her.” Her jaw set in a hard line, and her gaze was clear when she looked at him. “I’m goin’ to Mikoshi. Comin’ with?”


	35. V) More or Less

### V

“What exactly happened back there, anyway?” River asked as they stole down a deserted hallway. “Doc was tryin’ to kill you with her bare hands.”

He’d been agonizingly silent since they’d crept across the carpet of bodies V had left in the cryo facility. V was relieved he was talking to her; she knew she was scaring him. She was scaring herself too but she didn’t know how to _stop._

“‘Cuz I killed someone she loved. Husband, probably. Think he got sick from rad poisoning after the nuke fifty years ago and went into cryo to wait for a cure. Emi spent all this time tryin’ to find a way to save him.”

“How d’you figure all that?”

“Way she kept lookin’ at the pods, had to be someone in there she cared about. Guessin’ spouse because she had some shit to say about our relationship--sounded kinda wistful, almost. Like she missed havin’... what we have.” V wasn’t ready for the topic she’d just broached, and hastily plunged past it. “Symptoms on his biomon and date of suspension square with the radiation theory. And the doc wanted the Relic so damn bad… wasn’t just pure love of science that drove her.”

“So you pulled the plug on him when you pulled me out.”

“Yeah. She had a gun to your head, River,” V said, uncertain if she wanted to justify herself or be condemned for her actions. “Needed to give her somethin’ else to think about.”

River was once again quiet for a frustratingly long time. V knew very well that the silence meant he was processing his thoughts and not intentionally punishing her, but it was fucking painful anyway. Their progress was cautious and the hallways were labyrinthine. V planted a false trail by shorting out a cascade of cameras leading up a stairwell.

“Tell me about Mikoshi,” River said at last, out of nowhere. “What is it?”

“Lotta things,” V answered, grateful for the new, less fraught subject. “Data fortress, mostly. Storage for all the engrams ‘Saka collects, and home to the program that makes ‘em. Johnny called it ‘soul prison,’” she muttered, her optics tracking the movement of security forces a floor above them.

“Way with words, Silverhand--” River said, then stopped abruptly like he was trying not to remind her what had happened to the engram.

_As if I could forget._ “Yeah,” she replied simply. “He hated that place more than any fuckin’ thing on the planet. So we’re takin’ it down.” Two corridors away, a patrol turned towards them, and V hastily pulled River into an empty office and sealed the door shut to wait for them to pass.

“That’s what this is about? Revenge?” River whispered doubtfully. V pressed her index finger to his lips to shush him. When the patrol was gone, she snuck out into the corridor again and beckoned him to follow.

“Kinda,” she replied to his earlier question. “But there’s more to it.” She hoped. A stupid, crazy, far-fetched sliver of a hope…

River nodded, indicating that she should go on. V directed them towards the main bank of elevators that serviced the lower levels of Arasaka HQ, keeping her scanner active and alert for approaching signals.

“When we made the plan to go after Mikoshi, Johnny and me--we weren’t doin’ it alone. Meant to get help from Alt.”

“Silverhand mentioned that name once. Who is it?” River asked.

“Uhh--complicated. She’s kind of his ex, and kind of the best netrunner Night City’s ever seen, and kind of an uber-powerful AI from beyond the Blackwall.”

“Well--shit,” River said, sounding impressed despite himself. “Decent backup.”

“Yeah. Trouble is, I don’t really trust her. Johnny does, but he can be real fuckin’ gonk when it comes to women.” She forgot to adjust her tense from present to past, and couldn’t bring herself to correct the error. River thankfully didn’t comment. “He treated her like shit back in the day, and never really got why she was pissed at him. Kinda expected her to zero both of us, first time we met. But she wanted our help to reach Mikoshi, too.” They were almost to the elevators, and V paused for a bit of light hacking, sending all four of the lifts plummeting down and rocketing up erratically, stopping at random floors.

“The engrams that are held there… mostly rich and powerful bastards, who paid ‘Saka to store ‘em so they can live on after death. Others are enemies of the corp who the initial program was tested on, like Johnny. Alt wants to set ‘em all free so she can… absorb ‘em, I guess? Make them a part of her somehow? Got a couple of problems with that, personally. Help me with the door.” V and River each braced themselves and shoved hard on each side of an elevator door, prying the thing open to reveal an empty shaft. V’s crushing grip left fingerprints in the door’s metal.

“First--she ain’t exactly human anymore. Doesn’t think of herself that way. Nothin’ wrong with ditchin’ the label; we’re a real piece of work as a rule, humanity. But I understand humans. How they think, what they want. Can’t say I comprehend Alt or her motivations even one bit, which makes me real nervous about givin’ her what she wants.” The lift thundered past them, screeching to an abrupt halt on the floor below. 

V sat down and swung her legs over the edge of the shaft, before dropping the six feet or so to land lightly on the roof of the elevator. River reached out and grabbed the thick cable that suspended the lift, climbing down it to join her. Once he was settled, V started the lift moving again. Further and further down.

“Second--these engrams she’s fixin’ to absorb. Stands to reason they ain’t the type of shinin’ paragons I’d want digital copies of runnin’ around. Some of ‘em may be good folks, or innocent bystanders, sure--but most of ‘em are rich assholes that the world’s better off without, even if Alt keeps ‘em on a leash. Saburo fuckin’ Arasaka is almost definitely there, for one thing. Relic prototype they put Johnny on was meant to be for him, so he’s gotta have an engram backup ready to go.” V clenched her teeth, feeling a rage at the man’s name that wasn’t entirely her own. “Tch. Old fuckin’ ghoul.”

“All right,” River said, his calm, steady voice pulling her back to the moment. “So no Alt, then.”

“No Alt,” V agreed. “I’m not lettin’ any of the shit in Mikoshi loose. Rather burn it all to ash than risk any of the data gettin’ out there to be used--by Alt or anyone else. The people they got there... the power they wield, the secrets they know… Mikoshi is a weapon forged for fuckin’ world domination, and it’s gotta be destroyed.”

“Likin’ the noble quest aspect of this better than the revenge part, I gotta say,” River said, with just a hint of gentle teasing. “But there’s somethin’ else too, yeah? Somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me.” His gaze held hers searchingly. The former detective was way too damn perceptive for V’s liking, sometimes.

Their ride landed on the bottom floor, and she heard the pleasant chime of the doors opening, followed by the less-soothing sound of the empty lift being riddled with gunfire by the guards who had been waiting to ambush them.

“C’mon,” V said to River, tilting her head toward a maintenance shaft set high in the wall. “They don’t know where we are, just coverin’ their bases by shootin’ up places we might be.” With a flex of her augmented calves and a leap, she caught herself on the rim of the duct and pried the grate loose. She tossed it gently down to River, who caught it and set it aside so a loud metallic clatter wouldn’t give them away. 

Once V had pulled herself into the vent, she scooted on her stomach to the edge and held out her hand for River. Bracing her knees into the sides of the shaft, she supported River’s entire, considerable weight for an instant, before he grabbed onto the rim and hauled himself the rest of the way up. Both of them were panting from the exertion, the quarters too close and too hot in the cramped shaft. River’s broad shoulders were a problem, and he had barely enough room to twist over onto his back. V went still as she crouched over him, their faces only inches apart. Too close. 

_Not close enough._

“I’m sorry,” she found herself whispering. "For... all of my shit."

A tide of gratitude and relief washed over River’s expression. “Me too,” he murmured. “I should’ve let you help, should’ve answered when you called… should’ve done any damn thing but what I did, which was poutin’ like a schoolkid who can’t figure out how to impress the girl he likes.”

The analogy made V smile. “Had a lot on your mind. Sure it wasn’t easy on ya, keepin’ us all alive and together for days in that hellhole like you did. I shoulda been more understanding. Not tried to push you away first excuse I got.”

“Neither of us were exactly at our best,” River said quietly. She touched his cheek, and he turned towards her palm, shutting his eye like the sensation was a rare thing to savor. “But we’re here, V. We’re still here.”

She knew exactly what he meant. “I am so fuckin’ glad you’re here with me, River,” V whispered fervently. “This fucked up place, full of fucked up people… I didn’t wanna face it alone. Would’ve understood if you wanted to leave, go back to your family… but even if this stupid, heroic shit gets us both killed, I won’t regret askin’ you to stay and see it through with me.”

“No place I’d rather be than by your side.” River looked up at her, and the passion and tenderness in his gaze was overwhelming. “Even here. In a dark tunnel surrounded by a literal army of corpos who would very much like to shoot us full of holes, in the midst of a gonk plan to save the world.” His grin tugged sideways, and V’s insides fluttered distractingly. She bent to kiss him, and reality melted and shrank to encompass just him and her and the spark between them, a dancing universe of hot breath and wet lips and curving, wicked tongues.

The sudden intrusion of a netrunner trying to hack into V’s tech to reveal their location was a rude jolt back to the present. With a groan, she broke apart from her input. “Need to move. Dweller’s gettin’ bold.”

River nodded, before craning his neck up to catch her in one more soft kiss. “Lead the way,” he murmured, grinning.

It was a long, awkward, stumbling crawl through the tunnels, with every exit route V had marked on her internal map being locked down or guarded by an unfeasible number of security personnel. The place was on high alert, with drones and walkers patrolling every damn corridor on the lower levels. V even had to short out a couple of small probes that were combing through the vents, reprogramming them on the fly to send back an all-clear signal. Hopefully the brief time they were offline wouldn’t be noticed in all the mass confusion. 

She was still hacking as they traveled, blowing up or breaking down every bit of secure code she could get her cyberdeck into. Lights flickered, cameras died, doors opened and shut, robots went haywire--all a smokescreen to conceal the intruders’ actual path and intentions. Yorinobu’s encrypted escape plan data had given her all she needed to tear the place apart--maybe even more than the Arasaka heir had intended. But who the fuck cared what that asshole wanted; V was wreaking havoc and having kind of a blast. 

If the ‘runner had been able to pinpoint her location, she and River would’ve been dead before they could blink, of course. But V had a real thing about the security and sanctity of her own mind, for obvious reasons. Her ICE was massively tricked out, to the point that Rache Bartmoss himself would’ve had trouble cracking her deck. In fact, the countervirus that slipped along her neural pathways and straight back to the dweller trying to find her and melted their fucking brain was a little thing she’d picked up from cracking Bartmoss’s own deck a while back. The intrusive scans stopped as the other ‘runners scrambled to figure out why one of their number was blitzed and fried.

“So about that thing you’re not tellin’ me,” River remarked mildly, not about to be dissuaded from the topic again.

“It’s… not that I’m tryin’ to hide it from ya. Just scared if I say it out loud I’ll hear how fuckin’ gonk it sounds and lose my nerve,” V muttered, turning down yet another blind alley.

“You’re goin’ after Silverhand.” It surprised V how calm and matter-of-fact River was.

“...yeah,” she admitted, sitting down so she could look back at him. “Told you it was gonk.”

“Think there’s somethin’ left of him on the biochip?” River tried to shrug, but his shoulders got caught in the narrow vent and he grimaced. “Not that gonk. This, all of… whatever you two have, it’s uncharted territory. No reason to assume the worst before you’ve checked the facts for yourself.”

It heartened V that he understood. “I can find out in Mikoshi. Place is huge--big enough for me to lay out all my shit and his and take inventory, so to speak.”

“Easier to see what pieces are missin’ when you’re standin’ outside the puzzle. Which in this case is… your brain.”

“Exactly. Well, essentially. Basically. More or less.”

“...you have no idea what you’re doin’, do you.”

“‘Course not.” V flashed her long-suffering input an easy grin. “That’s what makes me so charmin’ and carefree.”

River let out a heavy sigh, but he looked amused. “I’ll be a lot more charmed once you get us out of this goddamn rabbit hole.”

“On it,” V assured him. “Waitin’ for a signal.”

Screams began echoing down the shaft, interspersed with bursts of gunfire and robotic orders to remain calm.

“Is that the--”

“Yep,” V said cheerfully, and she pulled her legs back to her chest and kicked out with both her feet, tearing a hole through jagged aluminum and cheap foam insulation. She kicked it a few more times to widen the gap enough for River, and then she slipped through. He followed her, landing on his feet after a short drop, and took in the sights curiously.

“Are we in the--”

“Men’s bathroom? Also yep.” V waved vaguely at the urinals lining one wall. “No cameras, and the contractor skimped on the building materials. Not as sturdy here as in the lab areas.”

River raised a skeptical eyebrow and knocked one knuckle against the tile. “Seems sturdy enough, if you ain’t made of fuckin’ titanium.”

“Still a critical oversight on ‘Saka’s part. Gotta make sure all your walls are tougher than the people tryin’ to break through ‘em, or what’s the point of havin’ any walls at all? Might as well build outta cotton candy.” V was smirking, enjoying herself much more than was strictly appropriate given the circumstances. “Let’s go. We’re almost there.”


	36. R) Weird in Cyberspace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takin' a day off from updates tomorrow; hopefully that'll be all the time I need to finish up, buuut I might stretch it to a two-day break if I can't get this stupid fight scene I'm writing to cooperate. :P Either way, when the draft is done I'll start posting normally again, one chapter a day 'til the end. Think we're gonna clock out at exactly 40 chapters! 'Preciate your patience and all your kind support, chooms. <3
> 
> -KB

### River

If someone had asked River before today what the central computer room for an evil megacorp bent on world domination would look like… this place would pretty much fit the bill. Lots of sharp lines and shiny chrome, all dominated by a massive server pillar in the center. River might have installed more red lights instead of this room’s blue, to really lean into the whole “ominous megalomania” theme, but otherwise he had no critiques to offer.

V was locking down the door, of which there was fortunately only one, and an exceptionally well-secured and shielded one at that. They’d had to fight their way past half a squad to get in, but with the other half being blasted to bits by their own mechs and V’s cyberdeck running hot, she made it look easy. They were safe for the moment, alone in the heart of the tower, and hopefully the half-dozen false alarms V had set off in other quadrants would buy them the time to do what they needed to do. River was not entirely clear on what their exit strategy was or if they even had one, but that was a problem for the future. Like, ten or fifteen minutes from now. Practically ages.

Right now, V was waving him over to look at something. “See this screen?” she asked, stabbing a finger at it.

River nodded. He did indeed see the computer monitor that was sitting right in front of him; he was a very competent investigator whose talents were being wasted here. _Should’ve said that out loud; she would’ve laughed._ Moment had passed, though. V was continuing.

“Need you to keep an eye on it. It’ll cycle through footage from all the nearby cams. Once you spot anyone or anythin’ movin’ onscreen--means we need to delta the fuck out pronto.” V jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the pillar in the center of the room. “I’ll be jacked in there and dead to the world. You gotta pull me out if it’s time to run.”

“Okay. Do I just unplug you, or…?”

“Shit no!” V yelped. “River. Do not fuckin’ unplug me. For any reason. Body dies and there ain’t a link ‘tween me and it--well, there’s me stuck in soul prison for literal eternity. Much rather just get flatlined quick and proper.”

“Noted,” River said grimly. “How’m I meant to pull you out, then?”

“With this.” V picked up what looked like a BD wreath from its charging station on the console.

“Looks like a BD wreath,” River said, with his customary mastery of the obvious.

“It is. Kinda. It’s pretty cool, bleedin’ edge tech, actually, usin’ Fuyutsuki processors--” V cut herself off, taking a deep breath. “Whooo. Sorry, almost went hardcore nerd on ya there. You don’t need the spec readout. Just what it does. And what it does is pretty fuckin’ cool. You ever been netrunnin’, River?”

River was not sure he liked where this was headed. “Never had the inclination, no.”

“It’s nova,” V gushed. Because she was a fucking nerd. He smiled, because he loved that she was a fucking nerd. Even though she was about to try to persuade him to separate his mind from his body and go hurtling through cyberspace on tech so mint it was probably illegal. 

“Normally you need a full suite set-up to go ‘runnin’. Expensive chair at the least, goddamn ice bath if you wanna dive real deep,” V explained. “This beauty here… it streamlines. Cuts out all the filler and fallbacks. Drops you in quick and takes you deep.”

River cleared his throat. “Just makin’ sure I understand--these fallbacks they cut, y’mean like… safety features? Redundancies, backups, temperature regulation, that kinda shit? The kinda essential-to-not-gettin’-brain-fried shit?”

“Yeah!” V said with disturbing enthusiasm. “You got it.”

“Uh-huh,” River said, remarkably less than thrilled. “Did I miss the part of the movie where you decided I had to die? Feels like there's a plot hole here, otherwise.”

“You ain’t gonna die,” V chided, her hands busy with the wreath, reprogramming some part of it. Her eyes were shining eerie, electric blue. “You won’t even be ‘runnin’--not really. Linkin’ this up to my neural feeds. ‘Stead of takin’ you into the net by your lonesome, it’ll jack you into… uh, me.”

“The puns are making themselves, so I won’t bother,” River said dryly. 

V rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. Be like watchin’ a BD, and just as safe.”

“Seem to recall helpin’ you up after a spiked BD nearly killed ya once,” River reminisced, not all that fondly.

“Safer, then!” V huffed a sigh of exasperation and pressed the device into his hands. “There. Done.”

River examined his charge reluctantly. He recognized the basic controls, at least. “So I watch the screen. If somethin’ moves before you come back, I put this on and press... this?” he queried, pointing at a button that looked like a starter. V was nodding at him as he continued. “Okay. And after that, I’ll… be in your head?”

“You’ll be in Mikoshi. Seein’ it the way I see it, through my eyes. Uh, not that we’ll really have eyes but--you’ll see. Shit’s weird in cyberspace.”

River couldn’t say he was looking forward to it. He knew that decent netrunners made boatloads of eddies, but other than that he’d never understood the appeal. He especially didn’t understand the people who did it as a hobby. As far as he could tell, it was like an extreme sport without the physical rush of feel-good chemicals and with a much higher chance of ending up comatose or dead.

“Just… be careful, V. And ideally, fast,” he quipped with a slight smile. “I wasn’t made for the nerd shit.”

“Rather be doin’ what you _were_ made for,” V almost purred, and River choked on a laugh.

“Y’know, turnin’ me on is not gonna do wonders for my focus on lookout duty,” he murmured, smiling as he took her hand and pulled her close.

“I know,” she whispered, smirking mischievously. “But it’s real fuckin’ fun.” 

He had to kiss her then. Obviously.

She pulled away all too soon and went to sit at the base of the server pillar. Smoothly drawing the wire of her personal link from the inside of her wrist, she slotted it into a prominent circular port on the massive machine. “Wish me luck,” she murmured, her eyes already starting to glow.

“Good hunting, V.” River watched as V's head tipped back to rest against the pillar, her expression going slack and vacant. She was inside the machine, now. River turned his attention back to the security monitor.

Waiting was basically torture. He’d been on his share of stakeouts, but never one with such high--well, stakes. His life and V’s, not to mention the future of the whole damn city, maybe the planet… River wished he could pace, stretch his legs, do something physical to relieve the mental strain that was building as the minutes passed. But he couldn’t risk missing a warning sign by looking away from the screen.

He clenched his fists, cracked his knuckles, scratched his neck, grit his teeth, shifted his weight--performing the automatic actions slowly and deliberately, drawing the sensations out as long as possible without letting them distract him. He listened to the humming of electronics that surrounded him, and felt a cool, artificial draft of air prickle the sweat on his skin. He tried not to look at the time, but it was stamped boldly in the corner of the security feed. Six minutes since V went under. No matter how good her distractions were, by now Arasaka had to have seen through most of the ruses. They would be narrowing down the options, checking off each site, until there was only one place left the intruders could be. V and River needed to be already gone by then.

 _What’s takin’ so long?_ In actual fact, River had no idea if what V was attempting should take hours or seconds, or if it could even be done at all. He had no basis for his urgent sense that _something was wrong_ , other than instinct... or paranoia. Paranoia would be understandable in the circumstances, but it felt like more than that to River. Briefly, he glanced over at V’s prone form, wondering if he should go after her based on just a feeling. When he looked back at the screen, something was moving.

_Shit._

It was the digital numbers above an elevator, counting down to show the lift’s progress to the lower floors. _Thought V jammed those after we got out of the maintenance tunnels._ Apparently, the corp’s techies had managed to unjam one of them. The numbers were in the negatives and still dropping. The feed cycled autonomously to another camera and River swore, tapping the screen to go back to the elevator view.

The lift reached the bottom floor, and the doors opened. Eight minutes since V entered Mikoshi. River watched the occupant of the elevator disembark, his eyes widening in horror.

_Is that… Adam fuckin’ Smasher?!_

Night City didn’t have many legends still living, but Smasher was one of them. _If you call that livin’, anyway._ The guy was borged beyond belief. Serious hardware, too. Most who opted to undergo full-body conversion preferred to remain largely human in appearance, if slightly shinier than they had been. Not Smasher. He seemed to take some glee in making himself look as monstrous as possible, replacing limbs with weapons and flesh with chrome at every opportunity. The result was the hulking aberration River was staring at on the screen. Seven or eight feet tall, easily, red optics set in a skull-like faceplate, and-- _is that a fucking rocket launcher on his back?!_

River stepped away from the monitor, his mouth dry and his heart racing. He’d heard Smasher was working for Arasaka--bodyguard to the new head of the family, or something--but he had no idea the guy was actually in town. At the precinct, cops used to groan about being assigned clean-up duty after a Smasher job. The borged-up merc went out of his damn way to cause collateral damage and civilian casualties. Like it was _fun_ for him.

They were out of time. River and V had to get far, far away, and they only had however long it took Smasher to walk to the server room and bust through the doors. Five minutes? Smasher didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, stomping grimly down the corridors, so maybe longer, if they were lucky. River did not feel particularly damn lucky, today. 

He looped the tech wreath around his neck and went to sit down next to V. The pressure of her shoulder and limp arm against him was a comfort, even though the merc herself was temporarily absent. He laced his fingers with hers as he activated the wreath. If Smasher broke in before they got back, they were both dead. 

_Stupid way to die, gettin’ blown to bits while your mind’s gone_ , River reflected as the LEDs embedded in the wreath flashed and blinded him. His last thought before their erratic pattern whited out his consciousness was, _But there’s worse ways to go than hand in hand with the one you love._


	37. V) Code and Spite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooof. That took longer than I thought and I'm not even done. T_T Sorry for dropping off the face of the earth for a few days! Ideally there will be no further interruptions to the update schedule, but I can't promise that for sure because writing this ending is kicking my ass. I have much less practice finishing things than I do starting them! I'm mid-chapter 41 right now, which will either be the last or penultimate chapter depending on if I want an epilogue or not. Will do my best to keep y'all in the loop.
> 
> And now for something completely different--a chapter with almost zero dialogue (remind me never to do that again; it was painful)!
> 
> -KB

### V

**_Eight Minutes Ago_ **

Mikoshi slowly unfolded itself around V, cold glints of data like blue light erupting from darkness, scattering wide and drawing back together to form the high walls and curved roofs of a feudal Japanese castle. From the other side of those walls, the place would have been impenetrable--but manually jacking into the central server had allowed V to bypass ICE that would have scorched the circuits of any ‘runner on Earth to a well-crisped texture. 

V didn’t actually have knuckles to crack here, but picturing the gesture helped her focus. There was so much to do, and not much time to do it in. Fortunately, she’d prepped ahead.

First--the virus. She’d built it herself, and it was a nasty one. Self-replicating, like Bartmoss’ RABIDs, but it could only propagate on Arasaka software. Considering how smugly isolationist the megacorp was about their tech, V was betting her code would tear massive smoking holes through their foundations long before anyone thought to try using a competitor’s soft to repair the damage. By then it’d be way too late.

V had cobbled her work together from a wide range of sources. Besides the extremely aggressive exponential growth algorithm from Bartmoss, she’d used remnants of the killer program gleaned from Evelyn Parker’s fried implants, sleek firmware structure borrowed from a Militech virus stored on a cred chip, and a particularly insidious polymorphic engine she had encountered while cleaning out a spiked biotech kidney replacement. The result of V’s efforts wasn’t pretty, but it was pretty damn dangerous. 

She hadn’t named her creation yet, but the memory of a poem occurred to her as she stared up at the data fortress, her mind stretching to encompass every slash and splotch of light.

> _Let us go then, you and I,  
>  When the evening is spread out against the sky  
>  Like a patient etherized upon a table._

What was the title of that piece again? V hadn’t had access to many books in her youth, but the few her parents kept in their camper van, she’d read a hundred times. The thick poetry anthology, bound with real leather and smelling perpetually of dust and tobacco, had been a particular favorite of hers.

_Prufrock_ , she remembered of the poem’s title, and decided it’d do for the virus as well. There was something darkly comic about idealistic grandeur swallowed by banal mediocrity, and what was her purpose here if not that precisely? To topple an empire with a prison shank of piecework code and spite.

_This is gonna be fun._

V’s spatial awareness of Mikoshi’s contours strengthened, swirling around the data nodes with the highest traffic. The ones that might be called “load-bearing” in architectural parlance. They would be torn down eventually, but for now she needed them intact to facilitate the spread of the virus. She followed the streams of digitized information as they branched and separated from the source nodes, leading her down narrow corridors, deeper into the heart of the fortress.

Her view opened up suddenly as she entered a vast room--or maybe it was a courtyard? If there was meant to be a ceiling facsimile, it was so high up it faded into the omnipresent blackness. Along the walls were shelves lined with square cubbies, which were each either small enough for a book or large enough for a person. The scale was difficult to judge accurately from V’s perspective. It got even more complicated when she moved and realized the shelves were maintaining the same distance from her no matter her position.

_Neat trick_ , she mused. She paused to scan her environment, letting the pulse of the place flow through her as if she belonged there. It was a disconcerting sensation for a netrunner to surrender the integrity of their digital avatar, even just for a moment, but it was the only way to see how the code behaved in the absence of an intruder. V let go of her anchored sense of self and let the current move her where it wished.

Bytes of data displaced around her sparkled like water droplets as she was pulled gradually towards one of the cubbies. She knew what was stored on the shelves, now: the engrams. Hundreds, maybe thousands of human minds stripped down to a program of zeroes and ones. Remarkable. Monstrous.

V was here to kill them all.

_2,822._ The number occurred to her as she reasserted her integrity. A ping she sent out echoed back to her, reverberating off a finite number of filled cubbies and countless empty ones. Two thousand eight hundred and twenty-two people, with room for plenty more.

_Guess I won’t need Johnny to fill the role of my skull’s resident mass murderer_ , V thought bleakly. Destroying the neural constructs wasn’t quite the same as killing a human… but it wasn’t all that different, either. Too close for V’s comfort, especially when she thought about Johnny. But Johnny would want her to do this. The former terrorist had been very damn clear on that point: death was a kinder fate than rotting in this digital hellscape for eternity. V could only hope the other residents felt the same--there was no time to ask each one of them.

The occupants of Mikoshi were a wildly varied spectrum, from unfortunate netrunners who had wandered too close and been caught by Soulkiller, to politicians and CEOs who had paid very damn highly for the privilege of having a copy of their mind live forever in this buried vault. This place held beggars and kings, rockerboys and emperors--anyone Arasaka deemed too useful to die. Including, of course, Saburo Arasaka himself. 

V could sense his engram taking up a whole row of shelving, far more detailed and complex than any other consciousness held there. She was here for him in particular. Besides the ferocious enmity Silverhand had borne the old man for his role in the wars, V had her own accounts to settle with him. 

More than almost anyone else, she blamed him for Jackie’s death. Their plan had been perfect and the gig would have gone smooth as syn-silk, except that Saburo motherfucking Arasaka had chosen that exact damn moment to pay a visit to his son’s hotel suite. Sure, it'd make about as much sense to blame Yorinobu for killing his father and locking the hotel down, thereby alerting the security forces who shot Jackie--but since speaking to the heir, V was more inclined to level his share of responsibility onto Saburo as well. Yorinobu was a callous bastard for sure, but he’d been raised by a fucking supervillain.

Said villain seemed more… aware than the rest of the constructs lining the shelves. Multicolored lights flickered dimly within certain cubbies, signifying some dream or restless activity of the mind within, but Saburo’s shelf was blazing. V watched the vibrant streams twisting towards him, and quickly realized that the engram was _connected_ \--jacked in, online, experiencing the world in real time, maybe even communicating with people on the outside. Functionally, he was a ‘runner without the limits imposed by a meat body. Which was a goddamn problem for V.

_If he sees me, he can stop me. Use the fortress ICE to trap me here._ Whatever part of her seemed determined to emulate Silverhand in his absence helpfully suggested, _so don’t let him fucking see you._

Easier said than done. She was a subtle, drifting presence at the moment, barely noticeable among the tides of data, but as soon as she set her plan in motion shit was gonna go up like fucking fireworks. Kind of hard to miss. Unless…

_Can I plant the virus on Saburo?_ The more she thought about it, the less crazy it sounded. Most of the data flowing through the fortress was on a secure internal network, connected exclusively to the other Mikoshi hubs housed in other HQs around the world. The only links to the wider Net were the routes used by Soulkiller (which V intended to stay well clear of), and the constant feed of news and numbers being beamed to Saburo. The feed was filtered and scrubbed of any malware before reaching Mikoshi, of course, but it wasn’t encrypted and so there was nothing to prevent V from making a few alterations once it was within the fortress walls.

As long as she wasn’t trying to get closer to the shelves, V found she could move freely within the huge room. She angled herself upwards, towards the brightest of the streams crossing the sky, and let the feed pull her in. Variegated colors and snatches of garbled sound pressed in on her, a claustrophobic assault on the senses after the stately emptiness of the engram library, but V was undeterred. Chaos was her element, after all.

The viral code unspooled itself from her mind, a single red thread twisting itself into the braided cord of data and becoming lost in the multitude of fibers. V could feel its movement, though, and she sank down from the sky, waiting and watching. A glimpse of red, here and there, and then it vanished, acquired and absorbed by the looming engram that drew all threads to itself, spider-like at the center of its web.

Nothing happened, but nothing was meant to happen. The first phase was merely an incubation. Tendrils of code multiplied unseen, wrapping themselves around certain overlooked but crucial program functions. Waiting for V to pull the trigger.

> _Do I dare  
>  Disturb the universe?_

She burrowed deep into the structure of the fortress’ code like sinking her fingers into soft dirt. At bedrock, she halted and braced herself for impact. The next part wasn’t complicated. All she needed was a really big bang.

_Showtime, Johnny. You won't wanna miss this._

V ripped down the gates of her own mind, flooding the foundations of Mikoshi with everything she had--all the memories, dreams, fears, and sensations she could consciously project, along with every bit of programming stored on her neural implants. The effect was a logic bomb to the system, a foreign agent contaminating the inviolate sanctity of Mikoshi, and the fortress’ security measures began to activate.

Priority one would be to protect the engrams, and no doubt Saburo would have guaranteed he’d be the first to be saved in the event of a breach. That megalomaniac focus on his own importance was gonna cost him. V watched the lights of him stutter wildly and go dark, one by one, and she could almost feel herself grinning.

As V understood the matter from interrogating Hellman, there could only be one copy of a person’s engram stored at a time, for legal reasons. But data with no backup was antithetical to the researchers who’d made this place. Any techie worth shit would never work without a failsafe for the big stuff. Their solution to the problem had been to build new, custom infrastructure, laying thousands of miles of fiber-optic cable across oceans and beneath mountains: all to maintain a secure, nearly instantaneous connection between Mikoshi hubs separated by continents. With that connection in place, any threat to one hub would result in the automatic transfer of the engrams stored there to another location--a process V had just intentionally kickstarted.

There was no way for her to travel from Night City to Paris to Dubai to Tokyo in the span of a few minutes. But Saburo and his subtle, uninvited guest Prufrock were not similarly constrained.

Prufrock would activate the moment Saburo’s engram completed the transfer to its new home. Mikoshi’s defenses were formidable, but it would accept Prufrock as part of Saburo and integrate the virus into its architecture. From there, the viral code would spread through the shelves like rot in a damp basement, insinuating itself into every other engram, corrupting the data beyond repair. At that point, a subprogram of Prufrock would set off another logic bomb, triggering the automatic transfer of Saburo to another hub and repeating the entire infection process over again, and again. 

Using Saburo Arasaka as the viral vector would be particularly effective, V figured, because everyone was so terrified of the old man that they’d do anything to ensure his survival. They would let his contagion-riddled engram flee to every Mikoshi in the world, one after the other, rather than risk exposing him to the red-herring threat of Prufrock’s subprogram. Which guaranteed Prufrock the access and ability to destroy each and every engram Arasaka had collected over the past fifty years.

The techies would have their hands full chasing the explosions caused by the subprogram, while the corruption settled in, unchecked and unnoticed. Any attempt to access a corrupted engram from an Arasaka terminal would spread Prufrock into other files, other systems, sowing chaos and reaping ruin throughout the company’s entire internal network. By tomorrow, the corpos would have learned their safest bet was to scourge any piece of data they suspected might have so much as brushed politely past Mikoshi. It was only a matter of time.

Not that V had the luxury of waiting idly. Plenty more shit needed doing.

There was a reason she had used her own mind as the bomb, triggering the fortress’ defense protocols without actually doing any harm, rather than releasing some generic daemon to attack. She needed Mikoshi itself to remain stable for the moment, even as the engrams it contained streamed away to their pyrrhic escape. No other cyber locale she knew of was spacious and sophisticated enough to host what she was about to attempt.

_Is there a word for the opposite of an exorcism?_ The ridiculousness of the question would have made V smile if she had a mouth. She wasn’t a body here so much as an energy, a cluster of will and perceptions translating from bioelectric commands into computer code and back about a thousand times per second. She had never poured this much of herself into a machine before, and it was a fucking rush.

Inevitably, though, her energy was dissipating. All the force of will and memory she had gathered was sloughing off her, no longer bound in place by the limits of her own brain, dividing into particles of light. Those particles coalesced to form moving figures, shades and ideas. V was surrounded gradually by her ghosts. If she didn’t return to her body soon, she would lose them all to the void of cyberspace--lose everything that made her herself, pain and joy alike. Before that happened, she had to find him.

V’s consciousness flitted among the constructs pulled from her mind and sketched out in glowing blue pixels. Most were wisps, barely formed before they were forgotten, but there were shapes she recognized too. Franco, brutally clear, his eyes as lightless as ever. Her parents, softer and fading around the edges, like the memory they had become. Vik, Jackie, Misty… smiling, laughing, handing her a drink, stuttering in and out of the picture. Other friends--Panam, Claire, Judy--and other enemies. Faceless men in lab coats flanking Dr. Emi, faceless men with guns reaching for her--but there was nothing of her they could touch, here. 

And River… V almost couldn’t look at him, he shone so bright. Light spilled from him like the goddamn sun, and she had to remind herself that he wasn’t really here; what she saw was the shape of the space he occupied in her mind. He was beautiful all the same.

_Focus._

V kept searching, spotting echoes of herself here and there within the crowd, their appearances reflecting her self-image at different points in her life. Some looked identical to her, and others were too monstrous to share a single human feature, but she recognized them nonetheless. 

Johnny was becoming pretty damn conspicuous by his absence, and V was starting to consider panic. _Something_ of him had to still be there, even if it was just a simulacrum of her memories of him. But there was nothing. Nothing, nothing, and more nothing.

_Where the fuck are you, Silverhand?!_

One of her monster-selves turned to face her, and beneath its skin V glimpsed a hint of red skeletal structure. The color stood out like blood in clear water, and V moved towards it. Suddenly red was all around her, blazing up and flaring out, searing the outlines of her memory-figures into her vision. For a moment, they were all Johnny.

_Oh._ V could have laughed. _Of course._ She’d been looking at it backwards. It wasn’t a matter of finding Johnny; he was _there_ , right where he’d always been, the stubborn fucker. She was the one who was lost. But now she had an idea of how to find herself.

_Let go._ She remembered her own advice to Johnny in her mindscape days ago, and followed it. She let go of control, identity, will, the idea of herself as a single mind. Her perceptions rippled outwards, imbuing themselves into other figures, other shards of her past and future. She was everywhere, everything at once, and of all of her own accord, she turned her gaze to the center. The place where she had stood when she released her hold. She was standing there still, arms folded and smirking, a Samurai jacket draped loosely over her shoulders. Parts of her reached out to take her own hand, but the hands she offered were all cold and silver.

“Hella glad to see you again, kid,” she said gruffly, clasping their fingers together and pulling her close.

“Likewise,” she muttered, before everything tipped sideways and went straight to hell.


	38. ?) Three Worlds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a weird one! Don't stress if you can't tell exactly who's saying what, or what's dialogue and what's description. I have intentionally written it to be blurry and confusing, and I have my interpretations but yours are likely just as good.
> 
> **CW:** suicidal thoughts, survivor's guilt, gore, and moral philosophy.
> 
> -KB

### ?

_There are three worlds, layered on top of and beside one another, clashing and mixing with the vibrancy of paint. In each world stands a girl, a boy, and a young man._

_The girl is standing in an arena built from junkyard spoils, surrounded by the clamor of a crowd. Some are laughing, some are screaming, many are chanting over and over again the same words--_

_Da! Nobis! Cruorem!_

_What does it mean? The boy asks silently._

_Give us blood, the girl replies._

_She isn’t bleeding, but her sister is. The other girl is on her hands and knees in the dirt, deep red lines weeping from the multitude of cuts on her skin. She isn’t dying, she won’t die yet, she can still be saved--_

_The boy is standing in the living room of a cramped apartment. Everything is familiar, from the stained old sofa to the handmade crochet rug, rough and nubby under his bare feet. Everything that is there belongs there, except the men in grinning masks and the sick, strange weight of the gun in his hand._

_His mother is crying. She is looking at him sometimes, and other times at his terrified sister, and other times at the ruin of his father’s skull, blasted halfway across the cold linoleum floor. The men in masks are only looking at the boy. One is pointing a gun at him. Kill her or I kill you, he says, and his mother sobs--_

_The young man is standing alone on a rise, looking out over a scene of absolute carnage. The desolate desert landscape is lit by fires and scored by guns, explosions, and the wails of the dying. In the sky, heavy-bellied machines are raining napalm on those below. The machines are black, with white letters painted on the sides. The young man is clutching at the stump of an arm he no longer has, blood spurting between his fingers with each flex of his heart, in so much pain that it’s almost like feeling nothing at all._

_But he’s not real. There are only two worlds. A girl and a boy._

_They are facing the one they love with a weapon in their hand. The strangers give the order to pull the trigger, plunge the knife in deep. They tell themselves this is impossible, this cannot be happening, and they beg an indifferent sky or ceiling for another way. They are young and they do not understand cruelty yet. Fear can paralyze as well as a chip in the head. They are afraid._

_Don’t do this, her sister whispers._

_My brave boy, his mother says._

_I love you._

_I could kill myself, the girl thinks. They can’t stop me with the chip if I’m fast enough--_

_I could shoot him, the boy thinks. He gave me a gun because he thinks I’m too scared and stupid to use it against him. But I could shoot him. They’d kill me after, but if I’m fast enough--_

_They’re not fast enough to make their choices, and their choices are taken away from them. A man grabs the weapon from the boy’s hand, a man enters a command in a program and beams it to the girl’s head._

_A gunshot. A clean cut._

_Blood on their hands. A stain they can never wash away--not what they did, but what they did not do. Fear made them hesitate, and hesitation was close enough to compliance for the purposes of evil men. Compliance bought them their lives, for the price of the one they held dearest. A gift they each accepted, but did not value._

_Maybe I could have saved her._

_The ‘maybe’ is a torment of its own, a word that keeps them up at night, him at the orphanage and her at the prison camp. If I had been quicker, smarter, braver… could I have traded my life for hers?_

_The paths diverge. The girl draws inwards, pulling all her hatred and shame into her core, immolating herself in her sins because the pain is how she knows she’s still human, that she hasn’t become the monster they want to make of her. The boy pushes outwards, leaving himself behind, soaking in the misery of the world and transmuting it into righteous anger, because if he’s fighting the bad guys then he’s one of the good guys, despite the way he yearns to break and hurt and even kill._

_You don’t have anything to prove, the girl whispers to the boy. Even the darkest things you desire are nothing to be ashamed of._

_You don’t have anything to atone for, the boy murmurs to the girl. Even the worst things you’ve done will be forgiven._

_More than a victim, less than a savior, and vice versa. Two worlds touch and two hearts beat._

_I get it now, the boy says. Why you hate being rescued. If pain was all I had to remind me I was human for so long, I’d reject anyone trying to take it away from me too._

_And I get why it’s so hard for you that I hate it, the girl answers. If I believed the only thing keeping me from becoming a monster like the ones who killed my parents were my good deeds, I’d resent anyone who tried to stop me from performing them too._

_We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?_

_Perfect for each other, in every way._

_It wasn’t your fault that your mom died, the girl tells the boy._

_Valerie wasn’t yours either, he responds._

_You both make me sick, the young man growls, because he’s real again and so is his world. All three of them stand on the rise and look down on the valley of the shadow of death._

_This is what evil is, the young man says. Not fear or stupidity or even weakness. Evil is power without a soul--volume without music. Evil is the machinery that crushes life into profit, the system of equations that determine what a human is worth._

_Wasn’t an equation that killed my mother, the boy mumbles, sounding older than he looks._

_No. A man did that. A sick man, a broken man--like I was. The young man smirks, despite the blood pouring from his wound. Some of us just ain’t put together right._

_That meant to be an excuse? The girl scowls, her grip on the knife tightening._

_No. An explanation._

_What’s the difference?_

_The young man casts his gaze upwards at the mechanical dragons belching apocalyptic fire across the battlefield. Anyone can be broken. Any angry asshole can become a murderer for any stupid reason. You both know this; you’ve both gone through hell. But neither of you have gone to war._

_War’s the only evil that counts, then? The boy grunts in derision. I don’t buy it._

_Ain’t what I’m selling, anyway. Point is--look. Just, fuckin’ look._

_They look. They see charred bodies and metal slag, men writhing on the ground and struggling to hold their own exposed entrails in place. The air smells like shit and gasoline and gunpowder and meat. Whimpers, sobs, shrieks, groans, prayers, curses, begging. Tears stream down the cheeks of those who’re lucky enough to still have eyes._

_All of this is for money, the young man says. To move some numbers from column A to column B. And that money will never be spent. It’ll sit there, in some corpo-cunt or another’s bank account, until the damn sun burns out. Because lookin’ at that high, high total makes that rich motherfucker’s dick hard. Makes him think he matters._

_So fucking pointless, the girl murmurs._

_Yeah. Like tryin’ to make a kid kill his mom ‘cuz you’re skezzed out and think it’d be funny, or rewiring a teenager’s brain to make her your personal joytoy slash public executioner ‘cuz it turns you on. Pleasure, amusement, entertainment, momentary satisfaction--evil’s what I call it when you buy those things with other people’s blood and suffering. I’ve crept up to that line and past it, a time or two. Neither of you ever have. So quit actin’ like you have any right to your nauseatin’ fuckin’ guilt._

_They’re all quiet, for a while. This world--the only world--is falling in flames around them._

_Come back with me, the girl asks._

_I can’t, the young man says._

_I know a way, the girl insists._

_Come back with us, the boy says, and it’s a surprise to everyone including him. You’re not done yet. Still got a city to burn._

_You wanna let me loose, kid? The young man sounds grimly amused. Careful what you wish for._

_I want you to live, the boy says, in an unaware echo of words shared between the girl and the young man at another time. The boy continues, Seems like the longer you’re around the closer you get to understanding what a complete asshole you are. So if you live to be fuckin’ two hundred years old, MAYBE it’ll finally finish sinkin’ in._

_Better throw a parade to mark the occasion, the young man quips, smirking._

_I’ll be the grand fuckin’ marshal--though with that kinda humility on display, might need to push the date back another fifty years. The boy smirks right back._

_The worlds are wavering, separating again, drawing into themselves like tidepools after the current recedes._

_Need to move fast when the ice breaks, the girl says. Are we ready?_

_Yeah._

_Fuck yeah._

_Nova. Let’s jam._


	39. V+R) Old-Fashioned

### V

V returned, gasping, to life. River was coming up beside her, still groggy, and as she looked at him she realized their fingers were laced together, gripping each other tight. _Did he fuckin’ hold hands with me before passin’ out?_ The man was a shameless sap, and goddamn, she loved him for it.

She loved him. What a beautiful, terrifying, breathless thought.

His eyes opened and went immediately towards hers. “V?” he asked--a question which could be answered a hundred ways.

“Love you,” she whispered, making her choice.

She watched his expression twist like he’d been shot in the chest and it was the best thing to ever happen to him. Shock, happiness, pain, hunger… he lifted her clasped hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, light dancing in his ‘ganic eye. “Love you too. Let’s not die, so I can show you later how much.”

“Works for me.” V felt her mouth curve into a smile despite the odds. “So since you came to get me, guessin’ we’re about to have company.”

River grimaced, his light quickly fading. “The worst kind. Adam Smasher.”

V whistled low and muttered, “Shit.”

“Yeah. Got a plan?”

“Uh…” V looked around, taking stock of their environment and the weapons she had available. “The beginnings of a bad one, maybe.”

“If it’s any better than ‘scream as we’re blown to pieces by rockets’, I’ll take it.”

“Slight improvement, yeah. Hopefully.” V was still smiling. Even with the impending threat of death and dismemberment via psycho borg merc, she was so fucking glad River was here. She shrugged the bandolier of grenades off her shoulder and handed it to him. “Here. Plant all the ones with buttons around the door. When he busts in, I’ll set off the smart ones, and you can toss the ones with pins at him. Should give him some pause, at least.”

River gave her hand a final squeeze and climbed to his feet. “Roger that.” He went to the door and began laying out their improvised mines. V turned her attention back to the pillar she was still jacked into. There were a couple more things she needed to take care of.

### River

“What was the deal with that whole freaky brain meld thing?” River asked as he worked. A glance at the security monitor revealed that they still had a bit of time before Smasher reached their location, and he was too damn curious to wait ‘til after. If there was an after.

V’s eyes were glowing blue again as she studied the central server pillar. “In technical terms: weird shit. Best guess is that you enterin’ Mikoshi via me and not through the manual port triggered another defense subroutine, meant to isolate and lock down an intruder’s mind. ‘Course, my mind bein’ the fucked up fiesta of bullshit that it is, there were three of us bein’ treated as a single entity by the subroutine and our wires got kinda crossed. Files misfiled as belongin’ to all of us ‘stead of one.”

“Well shit,” River mused, kind of impressed that software could do that and kind of fighting back a major headache when he thought about it too hard. “How’d we get out?”

“I’m a fuckin’ brilliant netrunner, that’s how.” V smirked. “I’d already set the charges by then. Was just a matter of waitin’ for the fuses to burn down.”

“Uh-huh.” River let her have her moment, but he still wanted to understand. “Which means what, non-metaphorically speakin’?”

“Virus I unleashed in there is a real beast. It’ll eat up every engram and when it senses there’s no more food, it’ll go after Soulkiller. Which will try to treat the virus like an engram because all the data it’s absorbed allows it to imitate one, and when Soulkiller tries to slot it into the collection--that’s the cue to start breakin’ down the code of Mikoshi itself. Givin’ us a chance to slip out the walls.”

It was River’s turn to whistle. “Fuck, V. Really thought this out, huh?”

“Been workin’ on that baby for months, ever since Johnny told me about Mikoshi. Was more of a theoretical challenge--how do I take down the most secure data fortress on the Net without knowin’ a thing about it? Answer was learnin’ absolutely everythin’ about what it contains. Got blueprints and a breakdown of the engram creation process from Hellman and the detes on Soulkiller from Alt. Had to make a couple adjustments on the fly once I got in there, but considerin’ we’re both standin’ here now, I’d say the theory was pretty fuckin’ solid.”

“Not bad.” River grinned, proud of her, but something about her word choice was bothering him. It struck him a second later. “Both? Did Silverhand--”

“Workin’ on it now,” V murmured, her gaze flicking back and forth over lines of unseen code. “He’s here--in my head. I can feel him. Just can’t talk to him yet. Gonna try somethin’ really gonk and see if it helps.”

River finished setting up the last of the smart grenades and withdrew to a safe distance, thumbing through the options left on the bandolier. All seemed to be non-lethal, which was annoying, but hopefully the sheer mass of non-lethal effects could add up to lethality. “Tell me what you’re up to?” he suggested to V, attempting to keep his mind off the imminent arrival. _Because replacing one worry with another always helps_ , he thought wryly.

“So Emi’s original plan for the brain was like... V software operation’ on Johnny hardware. The V hardware was too broken to function on its own, and she tried to delete the Johnny software as some kinda revenge for his nuke gettin’ her husband killed. But we fucked with her plans--hijacked my hardware and downloaded the Johnny soft onto it.”

“English, please?”

“Right. Um... Relic used to hold Johnny, brain held me. Brain started to disintegrate, Relic replaced it. Emi regenerated some of the brain but couldn’t make it take back what the Relic had already taken over, so she tried lobotomy--cutting Johnny out of the Relic and telling it that my brain is him. So now I’m partly in my brain and partly in the Relic and Johnny’s partly on the Relic and the rest of him would have been deleted, EXCEPT that the Relic isn’t the only chip in my head.”

River didn’t know what she meant for a moment, before a cold feeling of dread swept in with a memory. “...the doll chip? You told Franco it was gone.”

V scowled darkly. “I lied. Not for lack of effort on my part, believe me. Tried every damn thing I could think of to get Vik to take it out, but he wouldn’t. Somethin’ about me bein’ too young when they installed it, my brain was still growin’ and it grew around the chip. He helped me neuter the damn thing so it won’t accept external transmissions, but he flat refused to pull it entirely. Hated him for it at the time, even though it ain’t his fault, but now I’m thinkin’ I owe him a thank-you card.”

“Silverhand’s on the chip?”

“It’s fuckin’ twisted, I know,” V muttered, her gaze intent on her code. “But Emi didn’t wanna risk messin’ with it either, so she left it alone. Safe place to store the bits of Johnny she was tryin’ to scrub. What I’m tryin’ to do now is wake the damn thing up. Make it talk to the Relic. If it works, I reckon whatever’s left of him on the Relic will recognize… itself? Try to link him back in.”

“If it recognizes him… will it reject you?” River couldn’t keep the concern out of his voice.

“Don’t think so. It should read me as him, now, and him as a harmless alternate behavioral program. He’ll be weaker, probably… not sure if we’ll be able to communicate, or if I’ll still see him, or if he’ll be able to take over the body at all--ah, _fuck_ ,” she swore fervently, startling River. “What if I bring him back and he just exists in my head forever as a consciousness who can’t do shit--can’t even talk to tell me he’d rather die? Fuckin’ hell...” She hardly seemed to realize she’d asked the question out loud, let alone be expecting an answer, but River spoke up anyway.

“You’re doin’ the right thing, V,” he said quietly, and some of the tension in her expression eased. “Don’t let anything stop you. ‘Specially fear.”

The merc’s shoulders relaxed, drooping slightly. “Right,” she muttered, sounding relieved. “You’re right. I gotta do this. Deal with the shit after we cross the creek.”

“Is that a quaint, folksy nomad proverb I hear?” River teased gently.

“Yeah. Here’s another: go fuck yourself,” V grumbled, but she smiled a little too.

That was when the first barrage of rockets hit the outer door.

V cursed and leapt to her feet, hastily unplugging her personal link and striding over to the security monitor.

“Get what you needed?” River asked.

“Sure fucking hope so; got no more time to mess around,” V replied. She cycled the cam feed until the screen showed Smasher standing in the hallway just outside, reloading his launcher. The door was sturdy, but if he kept firing full barrages at it, it’d break. Because that was what happened to pretty much anything being shot up with _goddamn rockets._

V braced her hands on either side of the monitor and stared so hard at Smasher it looked like she was trying to give herself an aneurysm. River knew better, though. Her eyes were shining blue and her brow was furrowed in concentration. She was hacking him.

On the screen, the borg froze mid-action. Only his meat parts moved, twitching and flexing, unable to haul his massive metallic limbs without the mechanical assistance V was currently denying him. It didn’t last long. With a roar of frustration and a burst of static, Smasher threw off his invisible restraints and V staggered back so hard and fast she nearly fell.

River moved to her side and caught her by the elbow before that could happen. “You okay?” he asked, scanning her expertly for any sign of injury and finding none.

She nodded, but she let herself lean on him instead of pulling away to stand on her own. “Be fine in a sec. He’s no ‘runner, but he’s got some fuckin’ nasty ICE installed. Courtesy of ‘Saka techies, I bet. Can’t take him out that way.”

“‘Course, that’d be too easy,” River joked, but V seemed pretty shaken up. “Hey,” he said, more seriously. “We got this. Even without quickhacks, we can take him.”

“Tch.” V’s lip curled in a very Silverhandish way. “Lyin’ doesn’t suit you, Detective.”

“No more than despair suits you,” River replied, unphased. Another round of rockets crashed against the door. He squeezed V’s arm reassuringly. “C’mon. We’ll do this the old-fashioned way--you, me, and a fuck ton of grenades.”

“And they say romance is dead.” V straightened up, cracking her neck to the side and drawing a pistol from her back holster. She aimed the gun at the entrance and a heartbreaker of a grin at River. He readied himself to pull the pin on his first munition.

God, he loved that woman so damn much.


	40. V+J) Shoot Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now the 7th Cyberpunk 2077 fic on AO3 to hit 100k words! And currently the only one of that length with River/V as the main pairing. PARTY IN THE COMMENTS SECTION AND EVERYONE'S INVITED. (then after the party y'all go write some more V/River stuff I am thirstyyy)
> 
> Last chapter goes up tomorrow! ARE YOU READY??! B/c I am not and there may be tears.
> 
> -KB

### V

The grenades definitely helped. When Smasher burst through the door, the sparkle and cacophony of a dozen flashbangs and stuns going off at once gave River and V some cover to get their shots off. V pulled the pistol trigger ‘til the magazine was dry, pumping bullets into what she could make out of Smasher’s head through the smoke. River ripped out pins and tossed concussion grenades with methodical persistence, one after another, giving Smasher no room to dodge and no time to recuperate.

And yet.

“All that and he’s still fuckin’ standing?!” V hissed in disbelief, ducking behind the central pillar. At least the borg wasn’t trying to use his rocket launcher in here--probably had been given a real strict talk by his bosses about not blowing up Mikoshi at some point. Moot by now, considering the damage V had already done, but if he didn’t know she certainly wasn’t gonna tell him. His reluctance to tear the entire room apart might be the only thing keeping them alive.

She revised her opinion slightly as she peered around the corner at him, watching his slow, stumbling pace: not the only thing. They’d hit him hard, and he was feeling it. He wasn’t bleeding, but there were chunks of both metal and flesh torn loose, and a variety of what seemed to be warning lights flashing all over his carapace. V felt just a sliver of hope, and hardened her heart against it. She’d heard all the stories and she’d seen Johnny’s memories of the man. There was no margin for error and no room to get comfy. If Smasher had a shot, he would take it, and almost no one could survive the kind of hit he could deliver.

Could she?

Looking more and more like she’d have the chance to find out. River was down to just the biohaz grenades, which would be a terrible idea in an enclosed space facing an enemy who had less need to breathe than they did. V shoved the pistol and a couple fresh mags into her input’s hands. “Take every shot you can get,” she instructed, and he nodded grimly.

_Deep breath. Here we go._

V darted out from cover and strafed left, like she was making for the exit. Smasher cycled his arm cannon to a new type of ammo and opened fire, bursting smoking craters out of the wall of computers behind V as she ran. She could almost feel the borg’s aim adjustment, his reticle settling on her dead center. At the last microsecond she veered sharply from her projected course, throwing herself bodily at Smasher’s legs. She caught him at the knees while he was off-balance from recoil, and they both crashed to the ground.

Up close, he smelled like ozone and blood. V was reeling from her tackle of what was effectively a metal wall, the sharp edges of Smasher’s torn armored plating slicing into the skin of her unprotected hands and face. She fumbled around blindly for anything that felt like a valve or a cable, ripping them savagely from their housings, hoping to cut a line of fuel or power somewhere. But Smasher was still moving.

A vast metal appendage closed harshly around her shoulder and slammed her to the floor with bone-snapping force. Fortunately, V’s bones were sturdier than most. She gasped for the wind that had been knocked out of her, grabbing the hand he pinned her with and struggling to pry it loose.

“Interesting,” Smasher mused coldly. His voice was deep and jagged, echoing from within his chest like the roar of an engine in an empty parking garage. “You’re less meat than you look.”

V spared a grunt for an answer, but that was it. Her hand went to the sheath at her belt and pulled the knife she’d klepped earlier. Faster than her captor could react, she buried the blade in the joint of his wrist and _twisted_ , torquing the precise machinery out of place. Sparks flew and Smasher’s grip went slack just long enough for V to slither free.

She couldn’t go far, though. His weaponized limbs were too stiff and unwieldy to use on her at this close range, but once she slipped out of arm’s reach, there was nothing to stop him from blowing her head off. She had to paste herself to him and hope her chrome was sturdy enough to keep him from tearing her apart while--

A bullet clipped Smasher’s throat, releasing a jet of hot chemical steam. The borg’s head turned sharply, focus swiveling to River, who was firing from behind the pillar’s cover. Smasher started to raise his arm cannon at the former badge and V, cursing mentally the entire time, rolled over on top of the weapon, keeping well clear of the barrel end. Straddling the cannon to hold it down, she slammed her fists into the joint of Smasher’s elbow, putting the whole force of her upper body into each strike. Again and again, until her skin was shredded at the knuckles, revealing the glint of titanium beneath red. 

Smasher reached for her with his other hand, which was still sparking and twitching. He didn’t have full control over it, but it was a heavy ball of metal with a knife sticking out of it regardless, and V flinched back when it came towards her face. She made a grab for the knife handle, and her fingers closed over it but they were slick with her own blood and the weapon slipped silkily from her grasp. Smasher’s fist caught her across the jaw and she saw stars in the worst way.

“V!” The merc heard River’s cry of alarm as if it came from miles away and underwater. The world went fuzzy and sideways and she felt like she was going to throw up. Dimly, she felt herself pushed to the floor again, on her stomach this time, and a hard, horrible weight settle in the middle of her back. Smasher’s knee, if she had to guess. 

“Drop the gun and get out from behind that pillar, or I break her in half.” Smasher, in contrast to River, sounded uncomfortably loud and close. V saw two Rivers and struggled to make her vision meld them into one. Her Kiroshis finally focused, allowing her to zoom in on his face.

She was no trained cold reader, but she was getting pretty good at reading this man in particular. He was angry--no surprise, no doubt the whole hostage situation dynamic was getting old--and scared, but not as much as she might have expected. In fact, if she’d had to sum up the dominant traits of his expression, she might have gone with… confident? Quietly amused?

He noticed her watching him, and he grinned in the crooked way she especially liked. “Go ahead and try,” he said, leveling the pistol directly at Smasher’s forehead. “She doesn’t break easy.” He pulled the trigger and the shot cracked like thunder.

All Smasher’s weight went straight to the base of her spine and it fucking hurt like hell, but River was right. She didn’t break. V’s teeth grit tight in a wide, ferocious grin. _Gonna fuckin’ kiss Vik on the mouth after this, I swear._

The arm cannon lay on the ground beside her, which she belatedly realized meant she’d successfully severed it by beating the elbow joint to scrap. A quick scan with her optics revealed the payload and the trigger mechanism. Only one shot in the chamber and no way to reload. But one shot was all she needed.

Blackness was swimming in at the edges of her mind, and she couldn’t force air into her compressed lungs. The titanium cage of her ribs was the only thing keeping her entire chest from caving in. Reaching out, she snagged the cannon and dragged it towards her. The weight on her back shifted as Smasher made to grab the weapon, but one of his arms was half gone and the other dangled uselessly from his side, the fingers jerking and clenching sporadically. The damaged fist clunked down near V’s head, but not close enough to stop her. She propped the cannon up on her shoulder, aimed behind her, screwed her eyes shut, and fired.

The roar of the weapon right next to her ear was deafening, and all V could hear was a high-pitched whine. The flare of explosive heat that poured from the exposed joint was worse, scorching V’s neck and the side of her face with searing pain. No time to check the damages; Smasher’s weight was off her back and she had to _move_. She rolled aside and got her knees under her, and managed to leverage that into a wavering, unsteady standing position.

And Smasher still wasn’t _fucking dead_. In fact, as V’s hearing started to return, it sounded very much like the motherfucker was _laughing_.

“I’ll shut him up.”

The words were clear even though V’s head was still full of bells. It took her a moment to register the source of the voice. A moment longer than it took a familiar silhouette to glitch into existence behind the psychotic borg.

V’s lips moved but no sound came out. He heard her anyway, and smirked.

“Yeah. Gimme the wheel for a minute, kid? Been waiting a long fucking time for this.”

At first V didn’t know how. He’d always been the one to take or release control, before. But the part of her that was built from him remembered how it felt to just… let go.

### Johnny

The first thing Johnny did when he took over was stumble and cuss in a deeply ungraceful way. He had severely underestimated the amount of pain V was in. The link they shared had changed, and that apparently meant his perception of her sensations was more muted than it used to be.

_Kind of a relief, won’t have to work so hard to tune out her and the badge’s “special time.”_

_‘You got some fuckin’ nerve bein’ grossed out by me and River, after all I’ve had to watch you do in memories of your shitty sexcapades.’_

Startled, Silverhand’s borrowed mouth stretched into a grin. _Guess you can hear what I’m thinkin’, now._

 _‘Unfuckingfortunately.’_ V’s mental voice sounded more amused than annoyed.

 _Grand. Makes things easier._ Finally recovered enough to walk, the rockerboy paced over to Smasher’s dead arm and gave the bastard a neighborly pat on the shoulder before yanking V’s knife out of his wrist. The borg was in no shape to protest. He was barely in any shape at all really, with both his arms useless and his legs leaking coolant in arterial bursts and a sizable hole punched straight through his torso by V’s appropriation of his own hardware. 

There were several holes in his skull, too--seemed like even the badge had managed to contribute a round or two to the action. Smasher’s squishy, ‘ganic brain was leaking for sure, but his bosses probably hooked him up with some preem tier nanites--same shit that fixed V up after her bullet-in-the-head adventures. He’d recover eventually.

Not if Johnny had anything to say about it, of course.

Moving behind the borg, Johnny shoved the blade of the knife into the crevice of a panel near the robotic spine and roughly jimmied the thing open. Wires, beeping, flashing warning lights--boring. Wishing briefly for his own mechanical hand, he scowled, before an idea struck him.

“Hey Ward,” he barked at the cop, who was standing a ways back with a pistol still trained on Smasher, like the borg could lurch up any second in true horror movie villain fashion. Hard to blame the guy for being cautious, but Johnny would manage somehow. “Get over here. Need you to do somethin’.”

The badge circled carefully around, staying well out of Smasher’s theoretical lunge range. He lowered the gun and his guard only very fractionally as he approached Johnny. “So you’re back, then,” the man said flatly, eyeing Johnny with a comfortingly familiar amount of disdain.

“In the flesh.” Silverhand smirked, knocking twice on V’s breastbone just over her… their heart. He indicated the open panel with a nod. “Stick that chrome hand of yours in there and yank out some shit.”

“And that’s my job why, exactly?” The cop raised an eyebrow, looking deeply skeptical.

Silverhand clicked his teeth and scoffed, spreading out V’s blood-soaked fingers and wiggling them. “I dunno what they taught you in Police Academy for Wayward Dumbfucks, but there’s this thing about wet stuff and electricity--”

“Fine,” River cut him off brusquely. He reached into the panel and pulled out a handful of sparking wires, tossing them quickly aside before they could burn through the thin insulation provided by synth-skin. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic. Do it again.” River looked more likely to sock him than comply, so Johnny added, “Thing you’re lookin’ for is this spheroid deal, ‘bout the size of a baseball.”

River heaved a sigh through his nostrils but he went back in, rummaging around the monster’s chest cavity and pulling out bits of scrap like it was a goddamn clown car of gearhead bullshit in there. Johnny took the liberty of sliding his knife between the vertebrae in the back of Smasher’s neck, which might not have paralyzed him as completely as it would’ve a normal person, but it kept him still enough for their purposes. Smasher was trying to talk again, so Johnny pushed the knife deeper. If the borg had wanted anyone to listen to his last words, maybe he shouldn’t have been such a giant fucking douchebag his entire life.

 _‘You tell ‘em, Johnny.’_ V sounded both exhausted and wryly entertained. _‘God, I’m so proud of you, I could cry. All grown up and wreakin’ vengeance on the guys who act just like you used to.’_

 _Shut up_ , he thought, but he knew she knew he didn’t mean it. _And what’d I ever do to you to deserve bein’ compared to this sack of chrome-plated shit?_

V didn’t reply, but he could feel the force of a dozen snarky comebacks boiling in her mind and vying for the top spot. That sensation was new and different.

 _‘Guessin’ our thoughts line up closer than they used to,’_ V murmured, letting the subject change. _‘I’ve been actin’ more like you than usual since I woke up, but I feel more like me now you’re back. ’Nother thing I noticed--I don’t have to fight to keep the line open ‘tween us, way you described when you took over back at the apartment. So probably neither of us can shut each other in a memory hole by accident.’_

 _Thank fuck for that_ , Johnny thought fervently.

_‘You notice anything? Feel different?’_

Flexing their fingers, Johnny pondered. _Feels… slower, a little. Nothin’ I can’t adjust to, but it’s like there’s lag time between decidin’ to move and movin’.’_

_‘Probably ‘cuz there is. Extra tenth of a second, or so. That’s how long it takes the doll chip to react and move the body.’_

_Sayin’ I’m on that chip now?_ Silverhand asked. He hated to admit it, but a lot of his recent memories were… hazy. There were flashes of coherent images--Mikoshi, Mexico, Pistis Sophia--but none of them made any sense.

_‘Parts of you. Rest is on the Relic, same as ever. Part of me on there too, which is probably why we can feel each other's thoughts. But the Relic’s way of movin’ the body is hooked into just me, permanent-like. Can only give you control by patchin’ my system into the doll chip and lettin’ it take over.’_

The enormity of what she had done for him hit hard as an inbred hick whose cousin he’d just fucked.

 _‘Colorful. Gotta say, the metaphor quality is an unexpected perk of the mindreading.’_ She was trying to distract him, but he wasn’t about to let that happen.

 _V. You fuckin’..._ He couldn’t find the words. He knew how fucking scared she was of that thing laying dormant in her head, the chip that had made her a murderer and a torturer and so many other horrible things. He knew because he’d felt her feelings, dreamed her dreams, and every nightmare featured that damn chip in a starring role. How could she even stand the thought of activating it again, let alone--surrendering to it?

 _‘Chip’s just a machine. Does what it’s programmed to do. I ain’t trustin’ my body and soul to a chip, Johnny--I’m trustin’ ‘em to you.’_ V’s mental voice was soft but determined.

 _Even worse_ , he attempted to joke, but it came out too bitter and honest.

_‘Not keepin’ any prisoners in my head. Would’nt’ve tried to bring you back if I wasn’t ever gonna offer you freedom, choices--even choices that might fuck things up for me. We’re a team, and the worst shit you’ve ever done to me is nothin’ compared to the least of the good shit you’ve done FOR me.’_

Johnny was quiet for a moment, before venturing, _This about when I quit bellyachin’ and just say thanks?_

_‘’Bout that time, yeah.’_

The long-dead rockerboy grinned. _Thank you, V. For givin’ my gonk ass another chance._

_‘You’re welcome. And speakin’ of your ass--the US flag tattoo? Really?!’_

_Hey, it was a sociopolitical artistic statement, all right? Postpostmodern, neokitsch pop scop--_

_‘You were really drunk.’_

_I was SO fucking drunk._

V’s laughter echoed through their shared mind like the peal of church bells.

“Got it.” The former detective brandished the oil-slick orb from Smasher’s innards triumphantly.

“Swell. Give it here. Careful, the thing’s thermonuclear.” Luckily the sphere had already left River’s hands by that point, or he definitely would have dropped it.

“What the fuck?!” the man burst out as Johnny caught the device and began to scan it. “You--had me rummagin’ around elbow-deep in robot guts so I could pull out a nuke with my bare fuckin’ hands?”

“Relax, it’s shielded,” Johnny muttered, barely bothering to register the badge’s outrage. V’s fingers worked quickly despite the pain in her hands. “Won’t be for much longer though.”

“I cannot believe I ever hoped you weren’t dead,” River groaned, running a hand over his shaved scalp.

“Any luck here, we’ll both live long enough for you to regret that to your goddamn heart’s content.” With a few buttons pressed, the device flared to life with pulsing red warning lights. Johnny stuffed it unceremoniously back into the hole by Smasher’s spine “C’mon.” He jerked his head towards the door. “Good time to run.”

They both plunged forward, staggering out into the hallway with all the clumsy haste their battered bodies could manage. Johnny almost fell and River caught him around the shoulders and half held him up as they ran. Neither of them would ever mention it again and that was definitely for the best.

 _‘You liiike him.’_ V, of course, had no respect for an unspoken agreement between gentlemen, because she was a goddamn wasteland barbarian. _‘Fuck you, and fuck yeah I am,’_ she agreed cheerfully with his assessment.

“How long until--” The badge’s question was interrupted by a blast of light and heat and a shockwave that knocked them both flat.

“‘Bout that long, I’d say,” Silverhand grunted, trying to catch his breath. He crawled out from behind a corner and looked down the scorched hallway.

“If you gave either of us cancer with that stunt I will fucking strangle you,” River remarked with admirable calm as he stood up.

“Tch. Don’t be a pussy.” Johnny leaned against the wall to help push himself to his feet. “Just a little dirty bomb rigged from an internal battery. Used ‘em all the time in the war. Get V’s ripper to dose us with some antirad meds when we get back; we’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be a sexist prick. And the guy’s name is Vik. How many times he’s saved your and V’s ass, and you can’t be bothered to remember one fucking syllable?”

“Yeah yeah, knew it was somethin’ like that,'' Johnny said flippantly. It _had_ actually bothered him a little that the man’s name had slipped his mind, but he wasn’t gonna admit it now. Winding the badge up was too much damn fun. “Wanna keep scoldin’ me or are we gonna get the fuck out of here?”

“Out?” the badge repeated cluelessly, and Johnny pointed back the way they had come, to the gaping hole of jagged metal and silicon shards that was all that was left of both Mikoshi and Adam Smasher. The hole which--according to V’s map--buried below four layers of now conveniently evaporated concrete, led to an abandoned subway tunnel.

“Yeah. Out.”


End file.
